Everlasting Raine
by Coraline's3
Summary: Lorraine Drake has lost everything she loved turning her bitter. What happens when Batman seeks her help to become his Batwoman? Will she give in to the kind spirit she hides from the world? Will she learn to live and love again or die in the process?
1. First Encounter

I apologize for taking down Everlasting Raine. I had some things to revise so I hope that this one suits your taste. Enjoy.

* * *

The rain came down thickly, showering everyone in a cloud of haze and steam. There was no green fog that covered this part of the city. Only abandoned dreams and hopes that would never return. My mother's hand was a vice on my shoulder, loving, as her tears rang loudly down her face. Mine was indifferent, the smell of my fresh roses being dampened by the current weather. My eyes glazed the dark cherry wood coffins with an indescribable longing. I should be right next to them—right in that same box and placed underground forgotten and alone.

"They have to lower them now, sweetheart."

I nodded once with my stomach sticking in my throat.

My father gave the ok and all of Gotham's Elite watched my husband and son go down into the muddy ground. My eyes stung but I couldn't even tell if I was crying. Wayne Enterprises had to burry another one of its own today. The first time since Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Wayne. All of my husband's colleagues were there watching one of the most respected businessmen go down into the ground. I wanted to puke.

They, corrupted bureaucrats who believed they were doing something for this city, were here pretending to care about _my_ family.

If only someone would come…come and save the city. Then maybe…just maybe…I could forgive.

* * *

The alarm clock rang incessantly as my numb arm rose to throw it against the wall. It would be my fifth clock that month. My head popped up from my white sheets and like old habit, I ran my fingers in search of the body that kept my heart beating. I encountered cold sheets and a plump pillow. Nothing. I pressed a finger to my eye, swiping away the evidence of my humanity.

I rolled over and landed on my floor wincing in pain. I slept in that bed every night and I still fell out of it. Cursing, I stood up to my full height of six feet one inches. I pulled up my limbs into a routine stretch, taking one glance at the picture on my nightstand, and inhaled. I stomped, as usual, out to my kitchen in only underwear and a tank top and clutched onto the freshly brewed coffee of Irish roast and downed three cups. I took out the vodka, and downed a shot of that too. Ok, ready to get dressed.

I stomped off towards my bathroom, my eyes flicking in the mirror at my reflection. Crimped brown hair crowned my face so that my skin glowed with its freckles. My trimmed body was nothing short of magnificent and anything I wore, even clothes with holes, were perfect. My cat shaped green eyes, ones that held you into an uncomfortable yet intriguing position made me shift from one slender leg to the other.

Perfect. As was to be expected. Not even sleep could make me look like a hobo. I smiled, my glinting teeth making me even wince. In happier times I was thought to be a vampire, but as everyone knows, vampires don't exist.

"Good morning, gorgeous!" Claudius burst into my bathroom, ignoring my naked body, bearing my outfit for the day. "I assembled the team in the lobby and we shall be getting ready for the Fall Fashion Show."

"Did Kelly call in sick again?" And so my day began and the bitch was in full front. "I swear if she calls in one more time her ass is mine. Get Andre and I want six of those Jimmy Choo's ready by this afternoon. I want the models in my office by ten and no, for the thousandth time, no I do not want Paul Mitchell doing my girls' hair. Get someone else, younger. I don't care who, Claudius, just do it! And get Christian Siriano on the phone he's supposed to finish the evening gowns by Tuesday night and I will have them no later than then."

He nodded, his eyes haphazardly glancing towards me with a peculiar smile. "Guess who is back in Gotham?"

"The Dali Lama?"

"No, better. Bruce Wayne."

I stopped in mid-entrance to my bathtub. I pushed my hair behind an ear hoping that Claude wouldn't see my mouth hanging open like a lunatic. "Oh?" Was all I was able to mumble in his direction before slipping into the boiling hot water.

My head disappeared beneath the water of my bath and for the briefest moment, I thought of my little boy and how his dark hair glistened in the sun at the pool when I first took him. But like everyone I loved in my life, he disappeared beneath the surface.

* * *

My heels clacked down the marble hallway of my office building, random portfolio's being handed to me and people offering kiss-ass smiles. I ignored them completely, flipping through pages and pages of examples and ideas. "Yes, I think that the long baby doll tees will be a hit but make them plain colors. I'll fax them down. And yes to the legwarmers. Everything else is utter crap. Where's my Mocha? Throw this in the trash and turn on the news."

"Yes, Miss. Drake."

No matter how many times I insisted on being call Miss. Drake, my heart leapt out in a pitiful cry of sadness. It had been Mrs. Washington for so long that my birth name didn't even fell like mine. I felt alone, scared…abandoned. _Why Ivan…why couldn't you just stay with me…? _

Claude saddled up beside me and laughed his flamboyant heart out. "Funny that you liked the legwarmers instead of the thigh highs."

"They are the perfect piece to the puzzle of wardrobe malfunction. I don't see what you find it funny as it is the classic piece that never dies."

"Like your corsets."

"Yes, thanks for reminding me. Andre! Get me a full list of designers who make turn of the century corsets. I've just decided they're making a comeback."

Claudius looked into the mirror once inside my spacious office and fixed up his hair. He was thinking of something—making _me_ dread what it was. "Listen, sweetie, come out to drink with me. I have lots of straight friends who are dying to meet you."

"I don't date. And if you ever call me sweetie again, I'll chop off your trouser snake and throw it out this window." I arranged all of my papers and unfolded my agenda, assembling dates and assorting all types of appointments that were coming up.

"I know you don't date," Claude grumbled taking no notice to the threat of his prized possession being cut off, "but it would do you good. It's been four months."

"I know that, Claude. Everyone is still sending me apologetic cards at each hour of the day wishing me well. No, it wouldn't do me any good. It would only cause me to forget my work."

"How about Bruce Wayne? That would be some wild sex. The Bitch and the Prince of Gotham..."

My gaze was one of hell and automatically Claude backed off. "Because I'm not ready for that. There will be no sex."

Claude snorted at that. "Just give me a week and you will be linked onto Mr. Wayne's arm."

"No need. I have to keep our relationship strictly on business terms."

"He knows you exist?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, he knows I exist. Who doesn't? Besides, I was asked by Alfred, one of Bruce's most trusted assistants, to design his entire wardrobe."

Claude's mouth dropped. "You pick out Bruce Wayne's clothes?"

"I'm not going to deny myself the opportunity to dress our city's Prince. It's what I do."

"Then dress me."

"How about you get to work and then I'll forget you asked?"

Like that, as if I had snapped my fingers, the entire building shook with the work of all my employees. The day was long, tedious, ostentatious and above all, pleasurable. I loved my job because it was as cold as life. Anything that had to do with love, affection, warmth, or compassion was discarded in my mind. I was ice. I was an everlasting night.

My ears pricked up at the sound of a TV where Bruce Wayne's voice came bubbling into my mind.

I was suddenly disturbed by the voice, my mind reeling at its manly sound. It reminded me of someone I loved….someone now dead. I flitted out towards the main lobby, hit the power button, and slammed the remote into the wall just above the trashcan where it broke into small black pieces. And yet I had only flicked my hand…

* * *

It had been a few weeks since Bruce Wayne's new appearance, but he was already back in the spotlight. And so was another scary figure. He was on all of the pages of the newspaper, police officers were running around in circles pulling out their hair, and villains—the whole city rather—was beginning to worry about business. I ignored it knowing full well that I would never need this batman or his help. I had my own self protection program. It was called fists.

I had received a personal invitation by Bruce Wayne himself yesterday morning inviting me to dinner. I was going to deny it when I caught a glance of myself in the mirror. Why let this go to waste? I needed to get myself outside and—and I didn't know what but I needed to do something other than just work. When I'm in my sixties I can just pay attention to my career, but I was still young. 28, in fact. That was more than enough reason to go out.

The air was crisp like a nice frisk of the bare skin by one's lover as I walked to my penthouse just early enough to get ready. The steam from the sewer's rolled up in billows and the street lamps were unbearably askew in their broken states. The streets were desolate. Not one trance of human life against the graveyard of outdated cars and trash.

These were my favorite nights because I was tempting fate. I was tempting the Grim Reaper. Let all the evil in the world come, I could take it all.

Men whistled from an alley as I pounded my way through the shortcut I had mapped out to get to my apartment in the richest part of Gotham. I ignored them like I usually did in life. There was nothing that could hurt me.

I tripped suddenly, my heel snapping off at a large crack. Shit. These were one of my more expensive high heels. I reach down, feeling eyes on my back, and took off my shoe. I was probably going to get some odd fungus or tons of pimples on my face from touching this disgusting ground but how could I walk decently with a broken shoe? Lucky for me, I brought spares.

I felt someone grab my neck, a slow whistle sounding out in the night. It was a man, obviously, but I couldn't see his features all too well. There were other men too with the same grungy features, their clothes all torn up, and their hoods above their heads. Just what I needed to get rid of some four month pent up angst. Why no one had touched me until now, I had no idea.

"What's a hot thing like you walking these streets? Shouldn't you be on your way to a party in the upper side or something?"

I swallowed, licking my lips to moisten them. "In fact, I am and you're disrupting my schedule."

He clicked his tongue as I scanned the rest of the group—six men. Perfect. "Too bad because you're on our agenda."

"Really? On what list?"

"Our 'To do' list."

The men chuckled darkly with sly sniggers.

I laughed myself, surprising them. "Yes, really funny because, you know what? I just got a ten minute opening and guest what list you're on?"

The man's eyebrows furrowed.

"My 'Ass-kicking' list."

They all erupted in laughter but that was just enough time. I took the man's arm and threw it behind his back, locking him in a hold. The other's drew out their guns, but that wouldn't matter. They would only hit their friend. I used him as a shield as I slide my foot underneath one man, making him flip in the air as I grabbed his gun. Propping it underneath the man's armpit, I used my shield perfectly, firing off at each member until their lungs were smoking with bullets. The man I now held was dead as well, but he smelled. I threw him on the floor, wiping my hands. "Yuck." I whispered. I was completely dirty now and everything was going to have to be dry-cleaned.

I bent down to retrieve my unbeaten purse when a flap of something in the sky landed next to me. I didn't look up to see who it was. I could take on a full army if need be. I found my extra pair of shoes when a dark and grumbling voice came over me.

"That was impressive. Usually women such as yourself don't know how to kill six guys under less than three minutes."

I couldn't feel my limbs. Was I seeing right? My right hand clenched further into a fist, my knuckles turning white. "Batman, right?" I was finally able to whisper through dry lips.

He nodded. "You should be careful out here. Where did you learn all those stunts?"

I laughed suddenly free of my paralyzed state. I knelt down to strap on my shoes, my pencil skirt being uncooperative. He bent down as well, looping the strap gently. He smelled wonderful…like a fresh fall that was bringing the season's to change. But that wasn't going to make me tell him my secrets, even if he was a potential hero of Gotham.

"Thanks." I whispered.

"Anytime, Miss. Drake."

I looked up at him from under my lashes, surprised that he would even know my name. I could only see his mouth and part of his jaw but the rest of him wasn't a man. He was a creature on a mission. I shouldn't keep him from his duties because—maybe he was going to cure this city.

I glanced down for only three seconds and when I shifted my eyes back up—he was gone.


	2. Intense Dinner

Sorry it took me so long. I wanted to update sooner but found little encouragement. And currently Twilight has possed me. I went to the comic con to see the cast and it was nothing short of breathtaking. Thanks reviewers and people who favorited me.

* * *

I thrust my keys into its bowl and found my phone beeping with messages. Of course I would have thirty seven. It was only appropriate for a single woman with no life but a fast paced career to have a ridiculous amount of messages.

I hit play while rummaging through my way-too-expensive fridge, reaching all the way back for that container of dark chocolate that I shipped in from Italy.

"Raine, its sis. I'm still down here in Africa and I only have a minute but Rufus and I are getting married. I wanted to tell you sooner but—oh I have to go. Amouche needs me to feed the infants. Love you."

My sister was already getting married. To a guy whose name belonged to a cat. The next one began to play as I opened the door for Claude. He was already on a mission to make me as fabulous as possible and he didn't even say hi.

The messages went onward. "Hello Raine, darling, its mom." As if I didn't know who she was by the sound of her whinny voice. "I'm just calling to make sure you're still alive as it is the five month anniversary of your husband's and son's—"

I pressed erase before she could continue. Claude paused for only a moment where both of our eyes zoomed in on my Audrey Hepburn calendar where the big red X glared me in the face. I was well aware of the foreboding date and didn't need a mother's love to comfort me.

I slowly trudged into my bathroom with Claude in tow. The messages were still playing as I sat down in my high stool in front of the vanity where fluorescent lights bounced off of my glossy eyes.

"Andre's going to want a sample of that corset cover you're planning on doing."

"Already done."

"And the legwarmers are going to be on the models tomorrow with those Choos you ordered."

"Mmmmm…"

My hands shook slightly and Claude's movements stopped. He inhaled deeply before speaking. "It's good that you're doing this. Ivan would be proud…"

"Ivan would be going with me if he was still alive."

"They couldn't stop him—that's why they killed him."

"Yes, I know Claudius."

I pursed my lips, hoping that the conversation would be dropped. To my great surprise, Claude didn't say another word.

* * *

I had my personal driver—whom I never used—drop me off in front of a swanky hotel where paparazzi waited to snap pictures of various celebrities. Thank god Claude had dressed me or I would have felt completely underdressed in something I was thinking of wearing. My hair blew slightly across my face where it had fallen out from my messy bun. I could never get it to do what I wanted, always falling into a crazed mess. Fortunately, crazed was in right now—for the moment. My dress was a heart shaped bodice—no straps—where my small breasts were given the nice advantage of being up front and center. From there, the material draped to the side tightly with not too much bunching but just perfect. The black dress went to my knees and from there my legs went down. They were trimmed and well managed, just enough lotion to make them shine and then straight to my black retro heels. The second I stepped out was chaos, to my dubious surprise, as the cameras whirled around to see who the newcomer was. But I wasn't a newcomer at all. I was simply back from the dead.

Forward into the hotel I pressed, my hands swinging at my side gracefully as I grasped my black clutch bag. The hotel was marvelous, as was to be expected from the corruptly rich in Gotham. There was already a maître d' waiting to guide me to our secluded table and as I passed the crowds, heads turned. My power was still in check, I assumed, as people began to whisper. Everyone had known my husband—_everyone._ The eyes of the table turned to me and an instant flicker of recognition spread across the table. My first outing in five months. Shocker.

"Miss. Drake! We're so glad you made it!" Mrs. Radford, one of my colleagues, stood up to greet me. All the men stood making me feel more respect than I had in quite a while. It was like I was back.

And then my green eyes fell onto the playboy rock star of Gotham. I saw him, and only him, for a few moments. I was bewitched…it was like he was surveying me to make sure I was _ok_. Then, with the most rakish smile a man could muster, he turned to his two models who I knew from the previous fashion shoot. They turned their eyes on me while a slight mixture of emotions mingled with their smiles. They were probably debating on whether to strut their new found fame with Bruce or to treat me with fear.

Fear overtook the other. They wouldn't look at me for the rest of the night unless it was to offer a smile or model pose. I would have to book the blond one for next season even if she was a kiss-ass. Her features were fabulous.

The smile in which I displayed was only that of polite courtesy. Why would anyone want my input on politics? I hated this city, loathed it for all it was worth. And I already knew the question on everyone's minds. _"Why is she still here?"_

Why? Because it was all I had left of _them_ besides a picture. Everything else had turned to ash. This city, with its thug infested streets and metallic grandeur, was all I had left. I downed my Grey Goose, flipping open my clutch to call Claude when I remembered Mrs. Radford sitting right next to me. She would be more than happy, if not elated; to share her opinions on my new idea for next months cover.

"What do you think of bringing models back to the front cover?" I turned my attention to Mrs. Radford, ignoring the shift of Bruce's eyes at the sound of my voice.

Mrs. Radford eyed me with astonishment that I had spoken business over dinner. Was that not allowed at the table? Had I missed some manner of etiquette? I mean, it wasn't the turn of the century and I didn't have to make polite conversation. And I was Lorraine freaking Drake Washington. No one made me regretted anything I said. _No one._

"You mean go back to the sixties?" She finally answered, slightly shaking at my scrutinizing stare as I waited for her.

"Further than that. I'm thinking twenties. Bring back Prohibition, the flappers, the heels, the lips, the hair…"

"Where do you suppose we start?"

"Right here. In this hotel, starting with that pool. The shock waves of what women were doing without a male's consent brought full front and center. The deception, the secret boos, the flaky behavior of women's intentions."

Mrs. Radford was beginning to smile, excitement overcoming her previous shock. "I think you've got something there, Miss. Drake." She mumbled something to her date next to her and I found that he was her secretary. He flipped open his sidekick and began logging exactly what she told him. Turning back to me, she flattered herself with a smile. "And where would the men be?"

I brushed a hair back behind my ear, watching Bruce from the corner of my eye. He was staring at me—intently. "I think we should use Batman."

She blinked.

"Not in the sense of a vigilante, but as the dark male power watching over the women. The dark force…the oppressor."

"And do you find Batman an oppressor?" This time it wasn't Mrs. Radford who asked this question.

The whole table had now honed in on our conversation. It was a man I had been introduced to but couldn't recall his name. This man clearly didn't know me that well. Respected, but didn't know. The headline of tomorrow's papers flashed before my eyes. His company was going to take a blow from all sides just by the way I glared at him. "An oppressor of the trouble makers." Clipped, short, swift was my answer.

"But he's done something the police have never done." Mrs. Radford replied.

"You can't take the law into your own hands."

"At least he's getting something done."

The man snorted slightly in a disagreeable tone. "Bruce, help me out here."

The billionaire turned his attention away from his models to join the conversation.

"Huh? Well, a guy who dresses up like a _bat_ clearly has issues."

The table laughed softly. I didn't.

"But he's put Falcone behind bars."

"And now the cops want to bring him into it. What does that tell you?"

Mrs. Radcliff brushed her collarbone somewhat seductively. "They're jealous."

That or just torked because they couldn't bring about change within the city. A man in a mask was doing it for them. I sighed to myself, recalling how I had met up with Batman earlier that evening.

"He's nice." I whispered to myself, twirling my martini glass.

That hadn't gone unnoticed by Mrs. Radford. "You've met him?"

The attention quickly turned back on me. I cursed myself inwardly for having a loud mouth at the most inopportune moment. "Briefly. He…checked on me when I was having trouble with some thugs."

"See? He's taking law into his own hands."

"What did you think of him?" Mr. Wayne asked nonchalantly.

Why would he care? He should have been asking what I was beginning to think of him. A man with secrets. "There's more to him than meets the eye." My focus never left his. I was searching for something—but what was it? Why did he watch me like he was trying to figure me out? There was nothing to me. Just a kind woman turned ice cold because of what the scum of Gotham did to her family.

A maitre d' broke into the conversation somewhat randomly to inform Mr. Wayne that his models were not allowed to be swimming in the pool. I leaned back in my chair, interested in how he would handle such a humiliating situation.

"Well, they're European."

I rolled my eyes. He glanced at me.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

I was somewhat glad for this little trouble that had occurred. Now, instead of making headlines with my reappearance and my heated conversation with the man whose name I couldn't remember, it would be Mr. Wayne and how he got kicked out of a hotel for inappropriate behavior.

Mr. Wayne broke out his pocket book and began to scribble an amount on a check. We all watched him with shock and thwarted aw. The maitre d' rejected the money instantly, but Bruce tucked it into his suit pocket anyways while standing up.

"You see, I'm buying this hotel. And uh, setting some new rules about the pool area."

I was flabbergasted to say in the least, but what a man makes of his own money is his problem. Bruce nodded to me, took his glass and left.

"I think the batman deserves a medal." Mrs. Radford continued.

"And a straight jacket to pin it on him."

There was a splashing of the pool area as Mr. Wayne dove in, a giggle and turning of the heads. I sighed again through my nostrils, getting up to leave. I bade goodnight to the dinner party, past Bruce Wayne and the secrets he held, towards my freedom.


	3. Lunch Date

"There's no reason to be pissed for being on the front cover of the newspaper." Claude grumbled as he stood back, finger on chin, hair perfectly done and looking very much the homosexual that he was. But he would never know how much I depended on him, loved him even. As a friend, of course.

"I'm cannot believe this!" I hissed as I threw the newspaper, or what was left of it, across the room which landed perfectly in the trash bin. "Ice Queen Has Found Her Match! How ridiculous must they get?"

My hair was primped and ready for my underestimated, ice cold, demeanor. I was dressed for the day's events which were going to be positively grueling. I wasn't looking forward to it. "I am, in no shape or form, back in the dating world. And Bruce Wayne is the last man on Earth I would date! I would have sex with you first before going on a date with him! Now, are you going to stand there and gawk at me or you going to help me put my coat on?"

"Yeah, yeah but what have you got against Mr. Wayne? He's—what did Cherry Fossil call him last night?—oh that's right! She called him a constant wave of lust. That's perfect for you! Get back in the game and don't forget to use condoms."

I shrugged into my expensive Chanel overcoat while Claudius received my worst look. "I have a very busy day ahead of me and I don't want to be bothered with any unexpected phone calls or visits. Do I make myself clear?"

"Only if you answer my question."

I shuddered just thinking about admitting to Claude why I despised him. Pure jealousy. I had to lie, lie about the whole damn mess that was my mind. "He treats women like they are materialistic. I watched him last night and he—"

"He was staring at you wasn't he?" Claude gasped, clasping a perfectly manicured hand over his moisturized lips.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I know you, Raine, even if I wished I didn't. You hate anyone who stares at you."

"That is utterly absurd."

"I never stare at you because I have no need to. That's why you like all the gays."

"That is not why—" My blackberry went off before I could defend myself. Holding it up to my ear, I wasn't afraid to allow my voice to be the fires of hell. "What?"

"Miss. Drake, Mr. Wayne is in your office."

"What? Who let him in there?"

"He owns the company, Miss. Drake, I couldn't deny him access. He's waiting for you."

"Tell him I'm not coming in today."

Claude was leaning against the side of the elevator we had just entered, bursting into fits of laughter. I punched his arm and he automatically went down to the floor, clutching his arm but still laughing.

"You have a serious death wish!" I hissed at him before turning back to my receptionist. "Look, I don't care how you get him out of there. Just do it!"

* * *

"Oh. My. God." I was on the verge of killing my receptionist. I brushed my hair back, breathing in, giving myself time to relax. Calm, calm thoughts. "Karen, when I said I didn't care how you got Mr. Wayne out of my office, I was thinking more along the lines of beating him to a pulp—not offering him a lunch date!" I was practically screaming now, my fists clenched to my sides. The whole office was hiding now, even the designers who I paid to be in my office and in the back room at all times.

She shamefully glared down at her papers, her lip quivering. Crap, was I feeling sorry for this girl. She was just doing as I asked. I suddenly felt moved to apologize, but the thought of me having lunch with Bruce Wayne took control of all other feeling. What would the papers say? More importantly, what would Ivan had said?

"He says to meet him at Zade at eleven thirty." She whispered to her desk.

"Karen, just don't do it again, ok?"

She somewhat brightened at my lightened tone. "Yes, Miss. Drake."

I twirled around off to my office where Claude followed me, saving his laughter until the door closed. "This is the most humorous thing I have watched since Chris lit his hair on fire!"

One flick of my eyes and he instantly shut up.

"What does he want? Showing up here before I have even gotten a chance to get into bitch mode."

"Oh, no, honey you were already there when I showed you the paper this morning. I wonder if he's read it…?"

I shook my head ferociously, annoyed by everything and everyone. At that moment, for some reason, Batman popped into my head. There was something familiar about him that I just couldn't place. Great, here I go again. Making things out of nothing. "Get me Andre." I mumbled as I flipped open my day planner to find all of the appointments I had to meet before eleven thirty. I had absolutely no time to pencil him in but there was something about his urgency. And it didn't help that my curiosity was spiked to an all high.

I dialed the front desk feeling utterly amazed at how I was able to just dial the numbers without seeing.

"Yes, Miss Drake?"

"Cancel my appointments from eleven onward."

She hesitated. "You—you want me to cancel everything?"

"Did I stutter? Yes, cancel everything." Even if she couldn't see me blushing, I thought surely she would have guessed. I slammed my phone down, leaning back into my therapeutic chair and swiveled around, staring up at the high ceiling. Claude cleared his throat making me recall that he existed.

"Andre is here."

I stood up abruptly, ignoring my dizziness. "Let me see the corsets."

"We have a selection." Like a trained professional, his fingers fanned out the picture samples not missing one beat. "Each one ranges from the 'Strumpet in a Brothel' to 'Sleeping Virgin'."

"They sound like bad porno titles." Claude just had to comment.

"Exactly." Andre glanced sideways towards Claude. Splendid! Now my two gays were going to have a one night stand, end up hating each other, and make it awkward in my office. Just what I needed.

"I want each of these on my desk by Friday in every color." I paused. "And did I tell you my new idea? I was thinking of doing a comeback of the twenties…"

* * *

The air rushed at me as a bellhop pulled open the glass door by a golden handle. I walked straight up to the hostess who knew me at once. She led me to a back table, thank god, as all the heads watched me approach Bruce Wayne's table. This wasn't a date, I reassured myself. This was simply business.

Mr. Wayne stood up, pulling out my chair for me with a quickness I had never seen him posses. "Thank you." I grumbled while taking my seat. This was going to be an interesting afternoon.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Wayne. I never clear my schedule for anyone."

"And why did you?" He inquired after taking a seat.

I smirked crookedly to myself not even realizing that I hadn't done that it five months. "You just seemed so eager to talk to me that I felt bad canceling on the Prince of Gotham."

He held up his hand with a casual smile. "Please, spare me the names. Well, I'm glad you did. I have something important to discuss with you."

"If it's the wardrobe of next season that you're worried about I have it all laid out. You won't be disappointed in the least."

He leaned forward, a glint catching his brown eyes. "No, no something much more private."

"What would that be?"

A waitress came up and took our order, her eyes never leaving Mr. Wayne's face even as she scribbled. Once she left, he was all serious.

"I want to apologize on behalf of my father for what happened to your husband and child."

I slammed back into my chair and folded my arms. So that's what this was—a pity party. "Are you finished?" I reached for my purse, but his hand covered mine.

Funny thing was I didn't pull away.

"No, I'm not finished. Just hear me out."

I removed my hand from his and made myself comfortable, taking my time to make him nervous. "Go on."

"I know how angry you must feel right now. Your husband was a great man trying to save Gotham. The way they treated him was brutal and your son…I won't torment you anymore about that. But I must ask of you a favor."

My lips were taunt lines.

"You must want order, change, and justice in this city and there's a way to do it."

"Batman seems to be taking care of it."

He shook his head. "He needs help."

My eyebrows shot up. At once I was leaning in my chair with curiosity blazing throughout my veins. "You know batman." I whispered in such a hushed voice that even he had to strain to hear it.

He nodded once, fidgeting with his fork.

"And you trust me with his identity?"

"I have to."

"Why?"

He was restless, desperately trying to search for his words. He should be thanking baby Jesus that I wasn't a news reporter or this would have been my number one priority in figuring out Batman's true identity. I reached for my purse hesitantly, waiting on his hand to reach out and grab mine. But it didn't.

"Listen, I canceled all my appointments for the rest of the day. So when you find the balls to tell me what's really on your mind and what it is you want to talk to me about, I'm free."

He seemed taken aback by my choice of words but broke out in a smile. "Then that means I can show you."

I halted midway from getting up. "Show me?"

Bruce stood up, helping me to regain my balance. "Listen, I'm going to let you leave first. I want you to get into the black Mercedes that will be waiting outside. It will circle the block once and fall in toe with mine. Don't be alarmed by where the vehicle takes you, just trust me. I'm going to try and make this as easy as I can for you."

I was absolutely shocked at the ease in which he told me that we were going to do something secretive out of public eye. I smirked crookedly to myself even laughing a little. There was a snap of a camera and a flash. I let the smile drop, straightening. Without saying goodbye, I marched off towards the door. Outside, there were cameras everywhere clicking off hundreds of rounds per second. I was able to shove my way through only to find a door open to an inconspicuous automobile. A tall man with white hair and a smile to make me feel all fuzzy held out his hand to help me inside.

"Good afternoon, Miss. Drake."

My eyebrow shot up but the cameras began to stoke off at abnormal speeds. I nodded pretending to know who he was. The car sped off leaving the reporters in the dust. I took a look around the automobile finding it to be at perfect temperature with the smell of a brand new car. The man with white hair led the car along swiftly and just like Bruce promised, we fell behind another black car. My mouth dropped, but snapping it back shut I leaned into the leather. "So, how do you know my name?"

The man chuckled. "I'm a butler, Miss. Drake. I know more about you than you think." His British accent was adorable. I couldn't help but like him already. If I was only forty years older I would have dated this man in a heartbeat.

"What should I call you?"

"Alfred should suffice."

I nodded, adoring his name along with everything else I could see. "Alfred?"

"Yes, Miss. Drake?"

"You can call me Raine. I like you."

"Glad to hear it."

"I don't usually like people."

He nodded with a smile. "I know, Mr. Hammond told me."

"Claudius?"

He didn't answer as we sped off towards a dirt rode. Where were we? Surely not within Gotham's City Limits. There were trees and—was that a waterfall?

"Alfred?"

"Don't be afraid, Raine. Standard procedure."

"Are you going to kill me or something?"

His eyes stared long at hard in me in the rearview mirror while my hand clutched onto the door handle. "On the contrary you're about to be reborn."

I inhaled long and sharply as we slammed into the water. Instantly my instincts told me to open the car door and throw myself out but there was a silence the next moment. The car engine still purred along on stone, not gravel.

"Where are we?" I was able to choke out, my hair all over my face and my hands spread on both sides of the car.

"The Bat Cave."

"Am I dreaming?"

"No, far from it."

"Am I dead?"

He chuckled to himself when the door opened. I blinked. It was Mr. Wayne. I threw myself out of the car, trapping Bruce into a lock with my bare hands. "What do you think you're trying to do? Scare me? Because I'm going to warn you right now, it won't work!"

My back hit the stone floor, Mr. Wayne's weight pressing me further into it. "Impressive. But I'm not trying to scare you. This is what I wanted to show you."

My forehead crumpled into confusion only to snap back into realization. I threw a kick into his abdomen, standing up, and fists ready, breath raged. "Bat Cave?" I asked him, throwing a quick glare at Alfred. Was he smiling?

"Alfred, you're spoiling my fun and disturbing Miss. Drake's sanity."

"My apologies, Master Wayne." He walked off into the surrounding darkness.

There was a sudden light, fluorescent, white, beaming down on us. My fists uncurled, dropping at once to my sides. I limped a few paces forward to survey my surroundings when my eyes caught it. A suit with horns.

I made my way slowly over to it, clutching my bleeding arm. I thoroughly ignored all the pain as I lifted it to run my fingers down the case. I was right about the dreaming part. My dreams, I noticed, were going to need serious help.

"It's time to get things moving, Miss. Drake. And I need your help."

I shook my head but at what I didn't know.

"You want justice. I know you do, don't hide that. I want justice too…I want Gotham to have a chance."

"What are you getting at?" Surprisingly, my voice was smooth, controlled.

He was behind me, observing the suit in front of us. "Help me give Gotham a chance."

"And what are you proposing I do? Run around in a cape and cowl with six inch heels beating thug's bodies to a pulp?"

"If that's what you want. Or just simply stand up to them. Give Gotham the hope it needs. People fear you; the thugs will surely fear you after what happened last night. Run for DA."

I laughed then, loud and hard. "Yeah, right. Me, Raine Drake, as DA of Gotham. Are you high? I'm a stressed out Fashion Magazine Editor and the last thing I need is people watching my every move and plotting my demise. I already get enough of that from my employees. No thank you, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce."

"Bruce, I really must be going now."

"But you don't have any appointments." His eyes were sad, disappointed and—shit. The puppy dog look. Was he really pulling that crap on me?

No. No. No. I was not helping him. Deny. Refuse. "Look, I can barely handle living alone. I don't think I could handle serving justice in a mask."

"Then move in here and we'll figure something out."

My mouth dropped once again. "I want whatever it is you're smoking because clearly it makes you delusional. No, I'm not moving in with you and no I'm not helping you."

He took my arm lightly, holding it calmly. "Please, Raine."

There was a lump in my throat, a queasy feeling radiating in my stomach, my legs shaking. He shouldn't look at me like that because he didn't know what he was asking for. He couldn't possibly understand the feelings I felt. I was _not_ going to cry. The tears that threatened to parade down my face were _not_ going to come down. "I have to go."

I bolted for the car taking the keys from a steel table and fully intending on jacking his Mercedes. I sat in the front seat, hands on steering wheel, my throat closing up. I was having trouble breathing. Where was the peddle?

Alfred bent down by the rolled down window taking one of my hands. "I can escort you home, if you like."

I nodded, feeling infinitely better than someone else was going to drive. I crawled into the backseat refusing to meet Bruce Wayne's stare as we disappeared behind the waterfall.


	4. Secrets and Dirt

Forewarning: My stories take time to develop and I apologize if I don't give answers in the first chapter. This is probably the shortest chapter I have ever written and I don't necessarily like that. However, I wanted to give people the chance to see exactly what Raine is because knowing her, she wouldn't tell anyone herself. I was hoping to put this with the rest of my next chapter that I was writing until I made a people confused and said to hell with it I'll just post this. So I hope this clears a few things up.

* * *

Alfred stepped from the car turning to Bruce and smiled. "Am I right, Master Wayne?"

Bruce nodded, his lips in a tight line. "Yes, Alfred. You were right." Bruce rolled up the documents in his hand, forcing himself to remain in control. "I just don't get it, Alfred. How could she refuse?"

"I don't think you forcing her onto the ground helped much, sir."

He threw the papers onto the metallic desk and leaned over them. The front of it held Lorraine's name, age, phone number, physical description, occupation and current address. Inside it, much more detailed. Bruce had read everything about her the night before, finding she had more dirt and secrets than half of the police squadron. As clean as her image to the public appeared, there was something the Government would not, under any circumstances, allow to the public—which included Lorraine's pervious history in a secret attempt to invade Africa.

He flipped open the pages to where the descriptions of her training, weapons, and techniques lay out like an ongoing catastrophe of cataclysmic proportions. He sighed, prepping the speech he was going to give Alfred. "She's just what I need, Alfred. She doesn't take anything from anybody. Her family is all in Europe, just far enough out of Gotham's reach, in Russia."

"I thought I noticed the slight accent." Alfred stared at Bruce long and hard, wondering what Bruce was planning. "Tell me about her Government operations again. As you know, I worked for them so I understand just what she went through."

"When the Genocide of West Africa hit, she and twenty other specially trained officers went out to try and stop the conflict. It was highly classified. Only the President and his closest officers knew about it. The project—failed. It was fatal on all accounts. Everyone died…except for Raine. She wandered about the jungle for days until she came upon the tribes, hidden and discreet. She learned from them and…."

"The Government found her, didn't they, Master Wayne?"

"The documents claim that the operation was too much for her, or the United States for that matter, to handle. She came back under a protected program set up in something a woman of her expertise didn't particularly have skills in."

"Fashion."

"Exactly. She hasn't even graduated college Alfred and she has this job, this high paying, in the spotlight, completely intimidating job. But no one will mess with her."

Alfred nodded once, taking in the information. "Tell me about Ivan."

Bruce ran his fingers through his hair and shook out his frustration. "That's what I don't get. Ivan just came out of no where and died."

"Perhaps Ivan was just a secret agent trying to protect her."

"No one can protect her but herself."

Alfred folded his arms, waiting for Bruce to come up with a solution.

"I'm just going to have to ask her and persuade her."

"Why do you trust her?"

Bruce blinked and opened his mouth to speak. He was thinking why he would. He, The Batman, would tell something so secretive to a mere Fashion Editor. "Because I see it in her eyes. I see it, Alfred. She's willing to be whatever it takes, whatever Gotham needs, to save it. This is it, this city, is _all_ she has left of them."

"I'll start ordering her parts for her suit. And, Master Wayne?"

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Persuade her quickly."

* * *

A/N: Hope you understand Raine a bit more now. She isn't perfect and in fact she is probably one of my more maniacal characters. Sorry for any grammatical errors or verb tense issues. I felt this needed to just come out so I don't confuse anymore people.


	5. Denied

The sounds of my feet dragging into my apartment were brutal. I had never been so tired, so stressed, so utterly bewildered.

Oh wait, yes, I had. That night was fresh now like it hadn't been in months. My body fell onto the couch, crumpling in pain as I began to cry harshly. Falling asleep, the last words on my lips being the things I missed most. "Ivan…Aiden…"

* * *

"_Tell me where he is!" There was a crushing blow to my skull. I hit the ground, blood staining the cement. _

_I could see Aiden crying for me, struggling in the steel arms that held him. He was only three years old, so young. I reached out my hand for him, pleading them to let him go. _

_Something was sprayed into my eyes and at an untimely moment there was a face leaning over me. I shut my eyes, unwilling to look at it as I desperately squirmed from my death._

"_Scarecrow! We found him!" There was a yelp down off in the darkness, a stabbing sound of flesh and bone. My son…I couldn't see him anywhere. I called for him again._

_Sirens. Scampering of feet. Hollers. I was being lifted from the ground and laid on something soft. I screamed the sound of a thousand tears rolled into one giant ball of pain._

* * *

I had fallen off the couch and was screaming bloody murder as a harsh knock came to my door. Quickly, I hopped to my feet. I threw myself into my closet, locating my AK47. The pounding at the door continued as a voice hollered for me to open up. I recognized it as I drew near, that worried voice that rarely came out.

I swung open the door, not even noticing Claude wince as I threw him into my apartment. I locked all the bolts and slammed my hand down onto the door. This wasn't happening to me. I wasn't becoming paranoid again was I? It just wasn't fair having dreams like that. It just…wasn't.

"Are you ok? I could hear you screaming from down the hall."

"I'm fine. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Then—why do you have a gun?"

I shuffled over towards my closet once more, putting my protection to sleep. Swinging around, I fell into the arms of Claude. He was taken back, thoroughly, but he held on to me all the same.

As my nose began to run, no amount of tissues being able to help, I gazed up into the worried eyes of Claudius. "I have some things to tell you…"

Claude was silent as he placed himself gracefully on my couch. _I could do this_, I thought to myself. It wouldn't be so hard…just let it out. I need to tell someone.

"What is it, Miss. Drake?"

"Do you know what happened five months ago?"

I was surprised to hear Claude chuckle. "Of course I know! Gotham is not as ignorant as you seem to think. We _all_ know what happened to your husband and child."

Ice shards shot through every particle of my body. So I wouldn't have to explain that part. "My name isn't really Lorraine Leora Drake. I was born Avey Madeline Saunders."

No response. I continued.

"We didn't have a lot of money so…I enrolled myself into the Military. I wasn't—I wasn't _me_ yet. I didn't know what it was that I liked or disliked so this…this choice wasn't very hard. I rose quickly through the ranks, soon working for the government under secret operations. It wasn't long, the age of twenty-one in fact, until I was sent to Africa on an important mission heavily secured by all sectors of the government. I shouldn't even be telling you this now. I should be putting a bullet through your neck for what I'm saying—but you're the only one I trust.

"In order to protect myself I will not give you the details of what happened in Africa. The images are just too much for one of your stature to handle. The mission was aborted, but the skills I learned were not. I was, in every sense of the definition, a killing machine. I learned things that not even Batman is able to accomplish." I smirked to myself unconsciously, biting my lip in a slight agitation at the word _Batman_. "After being captured by my own government and thrust into a brutal society, I was given a new name. Not long after I was sent to Gotham to work as a designer for Crimson magazine, knowing little the skills I possessed for fashion and all it had to offer. It was perfect for my protection. No one would look for me, the butch killing machine, in a fashion building. I took it, and the heart of one of Wayne Enterprise's CEO's, by storm. Marriage came next, then my son and then death."

"You're not very descriptive, Miss. Drake."

I was not surprised at all by his use of my alias. I was actually flattered that he knew exactly what I wanted him to do. "In the Military, we were told to give only the main points, no embellishments."

"Miss Drake?"

"Yes, Claude?"

There was a pause. "I've already been informed of your past. Alfred and I have uh, met up once or twice in the last few days."

I laughed unwillingly finding this situation so absurd. "And what did Alfred tell you?"

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes displaying exactly what he was thinking. So he knew. He was my Alfred, I supposed. "Let me guess, you're going to persuade me to accept Mr. Wayne's offer."

He laughed himself this time, folding his arms. He was almost a different person—transformed into something much more than my gay assistant. A friend. I bit down on my laugh wondering what the headlines would say. "Ice Queen Takes On Gay Assistant As Closest Confident". "Depends on which one you're talking about? Moving in with Mr. Wayne or…"

"I'm not accepting." With that, the conversation was over. I was done with such pretenses and our unexpected chat of truths. Onto my bed I collapsed, sleep taking advantage of the situation.

* * *

"She isn't slim enough. Get rid of this one. And this one—where did you find her? Ghetto-Fabulous R' Us? I told you, Andre, I want models. Not skanks!" I threw my unfinished papers against the wall, clacking off further into the secret room of all things Fashion. The designers followed, scribbling on papers.

"Tell me, has anyone found my sketches for Bruce Wayne's fall collection?"

"Right here, Miss. Drake."

I snatched the portfolios from a short man next to me. "Next time don't wait to give them to me."

"Yes, Miss. Drake."

I reviewed my sketches, walking without looking where I was going. The wall came from no where, my papers flying into a downpour of white brilliance for the designers to scramble and pick up.

"What the fresh hell?"

"You're different when you work." The voice whispered too low for others to hear.

Ugh. "Come to annoy me with your presence, Bruce Wayne?"

There was an air of silence in the room. I snapped my head up to greet the brown eyes of my employer who was looking right back down at me. We held the same expression, one of agitation. But at what he was irritated with, one could only guess. "I've come to solicit a private audience with Miss. Drake."

I faked a laugh. "Where did you learn that phrase? 'Jane Austen Pick Up Lines'?"

His index finger ran itself down my arm, the arm that was facing a wall, the same arm that wasn't facing anyone. I could have punched him. I really could have. "Please."

"Oh very well." Flicking my eyes towards Andre's direction the room was gained control of. Claudius went to order about the designers in collecting my fallen papers. I was already bounding down the hallway, my long legs not swishing fast enough. Bruce kept up easily with me grinning at my annoyed expression. "Why do you have to bother me at work? Why can't you stalk me like my other fans?"

"Conceded aren't we?"

"Hypocritical aren't _we_?"

The door flew open and into my office we stepped. He closed the door; glancing about outside before he did so. Like someone was watching him. I wondered if he was worried about Paparazzi seeing us or…someone else.

"I would bother you," he began, "at any other time of the day but you never leave your house."

"So you have been stalking me."

"Only at night."

I paused allowing the chills to swell underneath my skin. I swallowed desperately trying to recover my Ice behavior. Why was it so difficult to be mean to him? It seemed to be a constant battle…oh well. All the more reason to hate him. "Get to the point, Bruce."

"I need you, Raine. Please consider—"

I held up my hand to make him decease his rambling. "My husband and son needed me and look where that got them."

"Their deaths weren't your fault. You were held against your will."

I slammed down my papers in furry. "And you? You're held down by all the world and yet you manage to fight. I—I can't do that. I didn't."

"You can change things—make things right. Take down the scum that took down your reason for living. Show them what it means to loose hope."

"No one in this city has hope."

He caught my wrist in an unbreakable hold, halting my unnecessary organizing of my desk. "Give them hope."

"Let me get this straight." I snatched my wrist from Bruce, surprising him in the strength I had in such a thin arm. "You want me to steal the hope from the demons of this city and give it to the good?"

"You can call yourself the modern day Robinhood, if you like."

"Har Har." I reshuffled a few papers on my desk only to find nothing else to do with my hands.

I glared down at my hands, the blue veins on the back of them protruding out against the white porcelain skin. If I was to accept his offer, how would I be able to do this job? I would be late, beaten up, hands scratched, welts the size of soccer balls on my ass. I was going to have to quite this job—the only job that didn't give a rat's if I was a bitch because it was Bruce Wayne who made the ultimate say.

"I'm beginning to persuade you." There was a smile bouncing about in his voice.

"No, you're beginning to piss me off."

"Harvest that anger for good."

I mimicked what he was saying, contorting my face into a mocking gesture. He chuckled brightly. "Mr. Wayne, I have a meeting to attend to."

"I see. Well you know where to reach me if you change your mind."

There was a flash of something white in the air as he walked out of my office in an ill composed manner. He could charm the elite of Gotham into doing whatever he wanted them to, but he couldn't charm me.

I picked up the piece of paper, folding it open only to allow my jaw to drop. Inside was a design for a Batwoman suit. I crumpled up the paper, throwing it in the wastebasket. But the damage was already done. I was immediately imagining what it would feel like to have that black material over my skin, my boots twisting swiftly with my kicks, the cape flying at the command of my fingertips.

Yes, being Batwoman would be a wonderful attribute to my already boring life and the suit would be magnificent on me.

But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I just…couldn't.


	6. The Beginning

"Alfred, like always, you're a genius." Bruce clapped his loyal companion on the back with a wide grin, his perfect white teeth flashing in the fluorescent lights.

Alfred smirked back with his perfect British gallantry. "I know, sir. But tell me, will she like it?"

Bruce brushed a hand along the spine of Raine's bat suit, imagining only for a moment what it would feel like to run his hand down the back with her _in_ it. "Once she agrees, I'm sure she'll find it adequate."

"Told her_ I_ designed it for her, and then she'll love it." Alfred grinned with a wink.

They both chuckled while eyeing the suit. It was her height of six feet and two inches, the perfection of the body miraculous without her in it. Alfred was able to charm the Frederick's ladies to hand over Lorraine's cup size in order to create the perfect shape in the chest, Alfred blushing most of the way. Bruce only laughed knowing that if Raine ever found out she would have him in a wrist lock slammed against the wall. He laughed even harder at the thought as his eyes traveled down the thin waist and muscled thighs to the boots that wouldn't make too much noise as she approached her victims.

"Alfred, maybe we could get her some heels to go with this."

"I don't think she would appreciate that very much, sir. But I'm sure she could wear heels for your entertainment some other time."

Bruce's right eyebrow rose. "What are you suggesting Alfred?"

"Oh, nothing in particular, Master Wayne. It just appears the lady has a high obsession with heels."

"You broke into her house."

"No, Claudius let me in and showed me around. He seemed quite calm about it, considering he could loose his job for such a thing."

"What did you find? Any remnants of her husband or son?"

Alfred was silent for a moment, his expression turning bleak. "A photograph was all I could find. I was told there was a fire at her house and she was only able to save a picture of them from the rubble."

Bruce stroked his lower lip in curiosity. He would have expected her to save the rubble itself in large containers because of her obsession with things lost. This might be an opening to her heart, if he could only strike the right chords. If he could inspire an obsession for the hope lost, then he might possibly be able to get her in compliance.

Bruce grabbed his coat and asked Alfred to bring the car around. He was going to convince her tonight, no matter what the cost.

He glanced once more at the bat suit and smiled in pleasure. Yes, Lorraine Drake would look _very_ impressive in it.

* * *

I hadn't seen him in two weeks. Two whole weeks free of Bruce Wayne and the work I accomplished was miraculous. I was a week ahead of schedule ready for the next month's issue to be produced ahead of time. Feeling lucky, I granted a few days off to my busiest of workers shocking them to their graves.

Leaning back in my massage chair at home, I shut my eyelids in peace praying for sleep to overtake the rest of my mind.

There was a rapping on my door.

Cursing whoever it was to hell, I slammed against my door. "Sweet Jesus. Why can't you leave me alone?" I yelled through the wood door.

There was a laugh.

Swinging open the door, I blocked all view of my apartment, narrowing my eyes at the Prince of Gotham. I wasn't surprised that he knew where I lived, but did he really have to come here?

"I plan to convince you."

"You do know that you suck at this, right? It's taken you two weeks to figure out how to convince me."

"No, I knew how I was going to do it a few hours after we spoke and when I went to find you again, you were knee deep in work and fluorescent material. So, I gave you the luxury of catching up."

My eyes shifted down the hall to where my neighbors were just unloading themselves. I clutched onto the lapel of Bruce's jacket and threw him into my apartment. I locked all the bolts and slowly stepped away from the door. "Well?"

"Where's the rubble?"

Had he lost his mind? "What?"

"From the fire. I though you would have stored it in plastic baggies all around the house just to have them with you."

"You are speaking pure gibberish."

"If you've forgotten to obsess over them, then I have something else for you."

"Wow, Bruce, slow down. It appears you're going to piss you're pants with excitement."

He pointed a quick finger at me, a brilliant shine of teeth flashing my way. "Yes, yes I am." I couldn't help but laugh at him. He must have something more than persuasive to use against me. "There is no hope in this city. That was in the past. It died with my parents, with your husband…with the quality of times."

"Are you trying to make this my obsession? Restoring hope and trying to bring it back?"

"Why not? You focus so much of your time on your family that was taken from you that not once have you stopped to look at the damage they have caused others."

"I do that because I loved them."

"Don't you love Gotham?"

"No."

"But you're husband did."

Wham, straight into the bloodstream that comment went. I staggered back, loosing all consciousness to fight. What had been my reasons to resist in the first place? _"But you're husband did." _The words rang loud in my ears as the minutes passed. Slow motion, the matrix theme playing out before us. Was I loosing hope? Loosing comprehension? Why was I caring all of a sudden? Why did other people's lives seem so much to me? There was a wall full of dead hope after beaten dreams piled in front of me, blocking all logic as to why I should not be doing this.

But my lips parted and I spoke. "I have a few rules."

Bruce didn't smile this time, rather shoved his fists in his pockets to keep from leaping for joy. "Anything."

"I don't have every night to spare. Billions are not at my disposal and I must work to keep myself at a normal pace. It—holds me together. So that must stay in order."

"Alright, anything else?"

"Yes. I'll need a Bat suit."

"Done."

"And I want to stay here. It will cause too much suspicion if we are together; too much imagination stirs within the city limits of Gotham as to who Batman is. They needn't another vigilante to wonder about and think of us."

"I wasn't aware of an 'us'."

"You know what I meant."

"No, I don't."

I snarled in my throat in heated anger. "Can you please ask questions after I am finished?"

"If you wish."

"I don't want too much publicity. I don't want to be paraded about as some woman who is useless to you. I need to know that I am—wanted."

"Of course."

We eyed each other for some time, the feeling of security creeping up into my veins. I was the one to smile first. "We have an understanding?"

"As long as you know this isn't some dinner party or one of your fashion shows. This is—tough."

My eyebrow rose as my feet uncontrollably stepped closer to him. I placed a light finger on his lapel, traveling all the way up smoothly to his tie where I fixed it for him. I yanked it as tight as it would go, giggling somewhat at the expression of his face. Not surprise—interest. "Oh, trust me, I can handle it."

"Great." He removed my hand to kiss it before answering. "See you at ten. Alfred will be around to pick you up."  
And like that, he zipped from my house and from my life. What was I thinking? I shouldn't being teasing him. Lord knows what he might want from me now. He'd surely do anything to catch me.

Or maybe not…?

I pulled out a notepad and wrote pros on one side, drew a line, and scribble cons on the other. "Let's see. Pro's…." There was his infallible smile that made my knee caps knock together at times. His impeccable style, gentlemanly demeanor and patient (if anyone could call it that after the way he chased me into this whole mess) characteristics were a plus. But Ivan….

I threw the pad of paper against the wall, kicking my couch and yelping in pain. I blamed it all on Bruce Wayne, cursing all the way towards my phone. "Claude?"

"Hola the best _Crimson_ Editor and Chief in the world."

"Shut it. Bring some Band-aids before you arrive. And, is my spare vodka still in the fridge?"

A pause. "Actually, Mr. Wayne just called me to tell me that he had Alfred go through the fridge and remove all of your alcoholic beverages. He left a note."

I heaved an aggravated sigh and slammed my hand down onto my wall. "Where is it?"

"By your sink."

With Claude still on the phone, I marched over towards the kitchen sink. There was a yellow sticky note that read _"Hope you don't mind, Miss. Drake, but alcohol does terrors to the athletic body. Please understand. –Alfred"_

"Bullshit." Was all I was able to manage as I hung up the phone.

Claude was faster than usual, his high beam smile driving me to blink four times as he entered my apartment. "I'm your own personal Alfred now!"

"Yes, and since you are, you have to drive me to Wayne Manor in a short bit."

Could his smile get any brighter? Well, it did. "Absolutly. I just bought a new car…well actually Master Wayne bought me a new car." He ran his pinky through his faux hawk to make sure it was still perfect while continuing. "He said that I should be driving you to and from work now and that he's going to double my salary. I could basically quit…which…here it is."

He handed me a portfolio that held his resignation. My jaw dropped.

"Don't worry, I'm not leaving you! I'm just becoming your full time assistant. He also asked me if I could talk you into resigning."

By this time I was already have a heart palpitation. "No." I was able to growl through my concentrated breaths. "Claude…you…this…I can't…unacceptable."

His smile flew down to the ground and he was already running to my side making motions with his hands. There were dots in my eyes, things becoming fuzzy. What was I going to do when he wasn't at work? Who was going to tease me into doing things? What had I done?

I couldn't do this.

I should resign!

No.

Stop talking rubbish.

"Do I need to call the doctor?"

"No—just take me to Bruce."

* * *

Both of us were slack jawed at my suit. Claudius couldn't utter a word except to leap up and down with yelps of excitement. "You're going to be so hot and kick ass."

"Shut up Claudius."

"You like it, then?" Bruce asked while coming up from the rear.

I couldn't speak other than a few attempts to make a sentence.

"Great. Try it on."

"Shouldn't we practice first?"

"You'll be more excited with it on." Claude mumbled while his eyes feasted on the suit. "God I wish I was a woman sometimes."

"If you stop saying stuff like that, I'll try it on."

"Deal."

"But only for a second. Alfred?"

He didn't need me to ask. Instead, he ushered me to a separate cove of the cave where it was difficult to see around. I stripped off my top and pants all the while feeling completely comfortable. I had the feeling Alfred wouldn't be looking. He was just doing his job.

I slipped on the suit with ease, its skin tight perfection gliding over my moisturized legs and up around my bottom, around my waist, and over my arms. There were a few zips here and there, a few snaps, and a few slight movements of fabric. Gloves were placed over my fingers. And, miracles of all miracles, my cowl. _My cowl_. I swallowed down my urge to jump up and down like Claudius. All in all the dressing of Batwoman took five minutes.

"We'll need to practice the transformation to where you're dress in less than thirty seconds."

"No problem. Want to do it again to see if I can pull it off."

Alfred was a bit shocked, but nodded.

"What's taking so long?" Claudius called from around the corner. "Alfred?"

Alfred and I exchanged glances. I had already stripped down and was ready for the test. "Give me a thirty seconds starting….now!"

Up, over, through, slip, brush, yank, twist.

Bam. I was in.

I stepped out from the corner leaving Alfred befuddled. Bruce held his watch, eyebrow raised. "How was that?"

"Twenty three seconds. Impressive. Did they teach you that in the military or was that modeling?"

"A bit of both." I had changed my voice to a different note, a note of pure chocolate high. Bruce hadn't looked up yet, but when he did, he took a double take. I sauntered my way stealthily over to him, circling around as if he were my prey. I ran my gloved finger along Claudius' shoulder blades and chuckled. It was easy to tease him because he wasn't interested in me and would never get—excited—by my actions. Bruce on the other hand…

"Perfect." Bruce licked his lips unconsciously.

"You bet. And off it goes just as fast."

I ran back behind the corner my heart thundering with new found excitement. This was going to be interesting…

"Just flick out your fingers like this."

* * *

Again, I tried to flick up my fingers to make the batwing appear, but to my dubious luck, it remained limp. I screamed and slammed my fist into the brick wall of the building we were standing on. The brick dispersed into a haze of smoke. "I can make a brick wall cry but I can't get this damn material to work!"

Bruce held in his impatience. "You can do this. Just breathe."

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect."

"I'm not perfect, Raine."

"Sure do act like it."

He grumbled something incoherent in my direction and leaned against the railing. "What I think you need is some fright to make your brain work quicker. Standing there pretending to fly won't help."

There was a gush of footsteps, wind, and a scream. My scream. I was falling down this thirty story building without any hope of being saved. There was air whooshing past all of my limbs and the leather material didn't help. It let all the wind slip on by wasting more of my time left on Earth.

My fingers latched out into a whip as the ground neared closer than ever. I inhaled sharply finding the side of the building. My foot decided it was time to push off, and upward I slowed down. I was airborne.

Screaming in excitement, I gushed my way towards the left, enjoying all that came into my view. The city lights like little freckles on bleak faces, the honking of cars, whispers of conversations that shouldn't be heard, the crashing of the boats out in the harbor, endless sounds of music blasting from clubs. All of it was mine.

I landed back on top of the building where Bruce waited for me with a bright smile. "Miss me?"

"Not too much. How was it?"

"I wish I could be mad at you but it was…" There weren't any words I could give to finish my thought.

"Good, now that you've got the basics down, you can go home."

My finger twitched. Why would he let me go home so early? "Why?"

"It's three a clock in the morning and you have work."

"I'll call in sick."

"You can't do that. You told me that this can't interfere with your schedule and it's already begun."

My jaw clenched itself into a fine line of disapproval. "Fine." I pivoted around and walked pointedly towards the door trying desperately to ignore Bruce's amused chuckle.


	7. New Partner

There was a slap of crisp paper next to my head. Slowly so as to not give my neck another reason to protest, I looked at what had awoken me from my deep sleep. My bed was in complete disarray with my feet tangled in and out of sheets by my iron headboard. I blinked, looking down at the newspaper that Claude (I could only assume it was him) had wanted me to see.

"_Batwoman? Is it possible?_" Underneath the headline was a picture of me soaring just above a street light, my slender hips even more amplified by the special lighting of an SLR camera.

I tried to laugh but my abs screamed in protest. I rolled over, my thin sheets covering only most of my skin. I could hear Claudius shift into an uncomfortable position. "Are you upset, Claude?"

"Not necessarily."

I flew out of my comfortable position, grabbing the comforter and a pillow at the sound of Claude's voice. It wasn't Claude.

"Bruce! What are you doing here?"

"I am entitled to check up on you the day after such a tedious excursion as last night."

"What so you can see me naked?"

"It's your personal preference on how you choose to sleep and most certainly is not my fault."

I took a hard glare at him, gazing into his eyes, trying to find some deepening hatred for me and my ability to get photographed even when I'm not Lorraine Drake. There wasn't a single strand of it—for anything. Instead, he was swallowing his laughter, a hint of excitement in his eyes. I threw the pillow I was holding at Bruce hitting him squarely in the head. He laughed even harder.

"Get out!" I screeched just as Claude came in. He did an about face and went right into my bathroom pretending not to be glowing with glee at the scene he just saw.

"Listen for just a moment." Bruce held up his hands in a truce.

I ran my fingers through my hair finding it to be a tattered mess. Fantastic. In all my nights of looking somewhat decent, it had to be the morning after the most fucked up night in my life to wake up to Bruce Wayne. Well, second most. I cringed inwardly at that memory. Placing the bridge of my nose between to fingers to blink back the tears that had no reason to appear, I sucked in a breath before answering. "No, Bruce. Just leave me alone."

He opened his mouth to speak. Clamping his lips shut, he nodded curtly and left the room. But he didn't leave the apartment.

I stalked into my bathroom; shoulders slumped and tears streaking down my face. Why they appeared, I could only guess. The last time a real man was in my room, laughing at me while I floundered in my tangled sheets, was my husband.

"I thought it would be alright…I mean you two just seemed so…I'm sorry, Raine."

I waved Claude off to sit down at my vanity. I didn't even feel like dressing today. I didn't feel like working. How strange, considering it was my only escape. No, I didn't want to do anything. "Claude? Can you call in sick for me today?"

He almost dropped my YSL dress on the floor that he had picked out for me. "Of course I can but…won't that cause a stir in suspicion?"

Ugh. He was right. I might as well get this day over with so I could go back to bed. I sighed even more. Great. I was back to that feeling. There was nothing more irritating that being depressed. "Fine. Get me dressed and take me to work." My memory flickered once more. Claudius wouldn't be with me today. I rolled my shoulders back into a straight posture beginning my process to become the bitch everyone expected. But today, for some reason, it just wouldn't come.

* * *

"Karen! Where are my sketches?" I yelled over the intercom. She was the only assistance I had and so far she was loosing points with me on attaining the job. No one would ever be as magnificent as Claude.

"Um…" She fumbled about her desk with papers and I could hear the erratic breathing slipping in and out of her lips. Women were just so flimsy.

"Karen, find the sketches. Then, I want you to call every male assistant we have hired within the last year. I'm holding meetings for Claudius' position."

The devastation in her voice was somehow satisfying to me. "Males?"

"I never stutter, Karen, and when I do, you get a raise." Slam, down went the phone.

A knock on my door came as soon as I stood up to leave. Through the unclear, misted windows, I couldn't make out a shape. There was no figure, nothing of evidence to prove someone had knocked on my door. But there, on the ground, lay an envelope. I retrieved it without thinking, flipping it over and breaking the seal. Inside was an elegant piece of parchment with an indiscreet writing on it. I thought for just a moment that maybe it was Batman trying to secretly inform me of the time we would be meeting again tonight. I was wrong.

_Meet at the Docks. Midnight. We'll be waiting. And don't bring your friend, Claudius._

I sucked in air examining the handwriting. It was familiar somehow. I couldn't recall where I had seen it, but I had.

There was a small knock on my door. Thinking it was Karen, I raised my eyes to give a hard look. Instead of meeting the frail woman who was going to get fired soon, I found a man in my doorway. He was of medium height, his blond hair resting on his shoulders. There was a small smirk on his lips and a grey stare coming from his eyes. He leaned against the frame of my door dressed casually yet splendidly in a well tailored suit fitting and bending to his form exactly.

I had stopped breathing.

"Miss. Lorraine Drake?"

"How can I help you?" I stalked over on high, high heels, holding out my hand. This man was just too handsome not to touch. A woman walked by in the hall, one of my employees, and almost tripped over herself at the sight of him. I smiled, catching the phrase "head over heels" run through my thoughts.

"I'm here for the opening of the position of your assistant."

_You could assist me anytime_, I whispered to myself. "Yes, please take a seat."

He sauntered over, a curious gaze on his features. I picked up the phone and ringed Karen.

"Yes, Miss. Drake?"

"Hold my calls and meetings. I'm holding an interview." After putting the phone back down, I took a graceful seat in my chair.

I watched as he produced a portfolio of all the work he's done, résumés, photographs and magazine articles. When I scanned the name, I almost chuckled. "So you're the famous Gracen Snow?"

Resting hands on either side of the chair, he smiled. "I am."

"And why would you want to work for me when you could be independent and make much more than what I am offering?"

"Because I like a challenge. You are quite notorious for firing people. I would love to see you fire me."

Alright, arrogant. But I had heard through the grapevine a year back that he was a catch at work and in bed. And here he was, sitting in my office, looking to be hired.

This was a no brainer. "No."

His face didn't falter. "Then you are taking a great loss to your company."

I stood with a witty grin on my face. "I meant no, you won't be suitable for my assistant. But as for the position of partner, you would be perfect."

There was a flash of excitement on his face. It appeared like he was trying to understand what I meant by partner. "What are the terms?"

"You earn forty percent of what I do—which is much more than you would be making working for any other company you have on your list. You help me make decisions on organizing in the magazine and you personally hand pick the models."

"And rules?"

"Only one." I took a step closer to him. "I'm the boss."

"Deal."

With that, Gracen and I shook hands. My spirits soared though my body ached silently. I was actually achieving something this day.

Opening the door for Gracen to step out into the hall, a few ladies immediately quit their conversation. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Snow."

"Please," he planted a smooth kiss on my hand, "call me Gracen."

Back in my office, I reviewed the letter one more time before packing up to leave. Throwing on a raincoat and scarf I headed towards the elevators. It was a bit dark, but I didn't really mind. My cell rang noisily.

"This is Lorraine Drake."

"Don't go tonight."

It was Bruce. "What?"

"They will kill you. I intercepted the thug that dropped off the letter."

"Stalking me again?"

"Be here in fifteen. I need to speak with you about something else."

"Oh, goody." Rolling my eyes, I pounded the end button and growled to myself. Great. There really was no break in this job.

The door dinged open. But, unfortunately for me, I wouldn't have a smooth exit.

A man dressed in a black suit narrowed his eyes and slammed a fist into my stomach. My reflexes were sluggish from all the work I had been doing. Flinging off my coat, I hopped up—much to the man's surprise. Taking a perfectly calm hand, I slammed the man up against a wall in the lobby, pounding his head a few times into the marble.

"Who sent you?" I hissed.

"Bitch."

It only took one more time of his head meeting stone for him to start talking. "Tony Morris."

I felt blood sink from my face. Ghosts were real.

"He wants to finish the job but doesn't have the balls to do it. So he had me finish you off."

"You didn't succeed though. Where is Tony?"

"That I can't tell you."

I threw him on the floor. Taking one heel, I dug it into his neck. "You will tell me."

"Hotel Grange."

I wanted to puke at the thought. He was still operating out of that shit hole. I took my heel and jammed it into his thigh leaving a mark. The man yelped but I didn't feel any better.

Walking away, the man called out to me. "What do you care for Tony?"

I took a small pause and stared back over my shoulder. "He killed my family."


	8. Batwoman

Thank you for all of your kind reviews! Here's another kick ass chapter for all of y'all!

* * *

"Explain." I didn't even bother with a hello. I just wanted an explanation for why I was being hunted.

Bruce blinked once until he found his voice. "You still hold the inheritance that Tony Morris seeks. You do know that he is your cousin."

"Yeah, I know that. And if I die, all inheritance goes to him. But why now? Why after all these months?"

"Because he wanted to torture you with the death of your family first."

I almost laughed. "You couldn't find another way to say that nicely?"

"I'm just being honest."

"No. You're right. But I don't want to know the fucking truth of anything anymore. This city is screwed."

"It is without us."

There was warmth on my hand. It took me a while to realize that Bruce was holding my hand. It had been so long since I'd felt contact. My mouth gaped. This was so abnormal. Bruce's hands didn't feel like my husbands. There were a bit rougher and I could even feel a recovering blister on one. Heart sinking, I fell into Bruce's arms. He understood about hardship. He was trying so hard to make Gotham a better place and here I was cursing and spitting on it. I had every right to hate it, yet I still dwelled here.

I started to cry.

Shivers rippled my spine as Bruce brushed my hair, petting me with a loving pity.

"I trained with a man named Ra's Al Ghul for many months. I come from the same backgrounds as you do and…I know what it is like to lose your family to Gotham."

I gasped, snapping upward from the strong arms of Bruce. "I completely forgot. How inconsiderate of me." I stepped back to keep my distance. Taking his hand once more, I stood for a moment to feel guilty.

I felt like shit. I was complaining to a man who knew exactly what was going on with me. I didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing. My limbs tingled with the sensation of his skin against mine, though only a small amount of surface was connected with his.

"I should get going." I went to gather my coat.

"Hey," Bruce called after me, "don't go looking for Tony. I trust that you can handle yourself if he comes after you again. But don't go searching for trouble. Once you do, you always find it."

I stopped to give my hardest look. "Bruce."

"God. I knew you would do this, Rain."

I knew suddenly that this was going to be a longer visit than I bargained for. "I have the right to defend my family. I have earned my vengeance."

"No, Lorraine. You must wait this out until we make a plan."

"And you don't think I have one?"

"I said we."

Ah. That was the conundrum. "Oh." I flopped back down into a chair.

"Did you think I would just…let you waltz right in there without any help?"

"Look, Bruce, I need to do this for myself. You never knew Ivan or my son so to do this with me would give you no satisfaction."

Bruce had come closer by the time I finished my statement. He stood in front of me, waist at my forehead. I turned my eyes away so I wouldn't think about the position of my head and his waist. I stared down at the floor instead.

"If you receive satisfaction in your revenge then that will be enough for me."

A chill crept up my arms. "Th-thank you."

Bruce reached behind me, leaning down closer to me. I faltered for a moment not knowing what to think. Bruce stood back up, my jacket in his hand.

"You really should start dating. The close proximity of a male puts you on guard."

"I'll take that into consideration. Are you, uh, dating anyone?"

"Several people. But there is only one who has earned a second date."

"I'm terribly glad I'm not one of your girls."

He flashed an alarmingly deviant smile. "You never know, Rain. One day you might make the mistake of falling for me."

I laughed a throaty laugh. "I don't make mistakes." Grasping hold of my jacket, I led Bruce to my car out front. Just as we stepped down from the steps, a flash went off in the distance. We both stared at the grounds, searching for the source of light.

"Camera. Alfred should be catching there asses in a few minutes but they will have already sent the pictures via cell. I hope you won't be troubled by tomorrow's papers."

I frowned. "I've been worried since you returned." I grabbed for my keys, opened the door to my Mercedes, and shucked the jacket inside. It was too warm for a coat. "So, when are we doing this thing? I have a burning yearning to kick ass and I don't want to waste anytime."

Bruce chuckled and kicked some gravel. "What's to stop us, right? I mean, unless you're tired or you don't think you can handle another all-nighter, we could take care of this thing right now."

"That a challenge?"

He looked pensive for a second. "Yeah, I think it is."

"Bring it on Batboy."

Both running back into the house, we made our merry way towards the Batcave where our future plans awaited us.

* * *

The night was thick with purpose as I landed on the rooftop of Hanley's Dry-cleaning. Right across the street surrounded in a blanket of green stood my target. Hotel Grange.

Not one hundred feet from me stood another tall figure on the building's roof.

Bruce nodded towards me and in perfect synchronization we landed on the floor with a thud and flutter of cape. I took my time, swinging my hips up towards the front of the hotel. Many male eyes stopped to stare; men with cigarettes halted mid-puff, others with beer bottles raised to take a swig were frozen. I shot them a menacing smile. I must have looked a bit scary. I didn't even bother going to the front desk. There was a ballroom to my left with a group of gangsters gathered at a table.

There, at the very head of the group, sat my family's murderer. My mouth watered for death. I wasn't in my right mind anymore. I had become something—other. Slinking into the ballroom, I stopped all conversation.

At the open doorway, I composed myself with hands on hips; legs spread apart, a smirk playfully on my lips. "Evening, Gentlemen."

Tony Morris stood with a lustful glare in his eyes. "Well, well, well. Good evening. Come looking for a good time?"

"Actually, yes."

It took me only a moment, but I hurdled myself across the room, sliding over the long wooden table to land on Morris's left side. Whipping a hand around his neck and something that resembled a whip, I cracked it against the floor. Everyone was still. Pointing my whip towards the door, I spoke in a low rumble. "Leave and shut the doors on the way out."

The man who I pointed to didn't move. I shook out my whip, and slammed it across the man's face. "Now." Blood streaked his cheek.

The man took out a gun and raised it to my head. Switching hands, I wrapped my weapon around Morris's neck to keep him in place. Kicking up a well trained leg, I knocked the gun from his hand and as it flew through the air, my graceful wrist snapped up to catch it.

Pointing the gun back at the man, I nodded towards the door.

The whole room shuffled out without further intimidation.

Once the doors shut with a considerable force, I took a step towards my quaking victim. I bent down beside his sweaty, massive blob of a body and cooed. "You aren't so menacing looking. Why ever would my husband be afraid of you?"

"Watch your step, bitch. I could have those guys back in here in a second."

I trailed my fingers along his back and along his arm to the other side. Leaning down to get closer, I took his chubby chin in my hand to force him to focus on me. "I don't doubt it. You've got yourself a precious little system going on down here. But, if you beckoned your men in—I'd have to kill you. And you wouldn't want that would you? No one wants to die. My husband certainly didn't. Neither did my little boy."

"I don't know who you're talking about."

"Oh, but you do."

"Listen, lady, if you're here to kill me, do it already."

"My name," I kicked the chair over so Morris would scramble on the floor, "is Batwoman."

Taking my whip, I slashed his body with as much force as a steamroller. Tony Morris yelped in pain.

The doors burst open, and gunfire began. I didn't even notice the extra flutter of wings above me. I was too intent on giving Morris what he deserved that when I came to my senses, there was not a sound in the room save for a moan or two.

"Tie him up." Bruce grunted.

"I'm not finished."

"He will be taken to jail and given a death sentence. Let justice run its course."

"No justice will be served unless I am the server."

There was a tight grip on my shoulder, the sound of rubber squeaking. It took so much energy for me to pay attention to the sound of my own voice of reason. "Give me the rope."

Toy Morris was lassoed up into a tight hold, along with his other cronies. Sirens blasted from the quiet of the streets.

I took one long last look at the man. Bending down to Morris' ear, I uttered the words I had wished to say for months. "Go to hell, you worthless sack of shit. And while you're there, fuck yourself for me."

A whoosh and a sigh, and Bruce and I were gone.


	9. Dinner

"You can sleep here for the night. I've contacted Claude. He'll take care of your workday for you."

I shook my head groggily. "I hired someone. A partner. He must be trained."

"He can wait." He gave me a hard look while I yawned. "You need to rest. Alfred will take care of you."

He bade me goodnight in the hall. For a moment, I found myself alone in a large hallway. But, just as I was about to go follow Bruce, Alfred popped up. "Hey, Alfred."

The man gave me a brilliant smile, took my hand to wrap around his arm, and led me down the hall. "Master Wayne told me that if ever you need a place to stay, our doors are open. I'm going to place you in a room in a much quieter part of the house."

"No one else lives here, Alfred. How noisy could it get?"

Alfred threw me a wicked grin. "Trust me, Miss. Drake. It can become quite a zoo." At the door of the guest bedroom, Alfred let go of my arm. "I shall have Claude be here in the morning. Do you need help undressing?"

"No," I opened the door slightly stifling a yawn, "I'll be able to take care of that. Thanks."

"My pleasure."

I stumbled silently into the bedroom, discarded my attire, and fell without another care into a large bed with white linen sheets and a down comforter.

* * *

A few droplets of steaming water trickled every other second into the bathtub where I relaxed at two in the afternoon. It had only been an hour since arising from the dead. Claude had sat by me all morning checking my vitals and reading the newspaper which, not surprisingly, held a candid of me and Bruce on the front page—talking nonchalantly as if we had known each other for years. The headline read "Prince of Gotham and Queen of Ice: Friends?"

I skipped down a few lines to read: _Miss. Drake, noted editor and chief of design at Crimson, conversing with our very own Prince on the front steps of Wayne manor. Previously unacquainted, the two now seem to have some attachment to each other. Could it simply be an alliance between the two major money-makers, or could it be something more?_

I had laughed and even an hour later was still laughing…Bruce and I! Ahahhhahah!

"You really should stop smirking and see it as a possibility. At least nail the man and let me know what it was like. I'm curious to know how much he's packing…"

"Claude." I gently scolded as I stepped out of the tub. My whole body ached.

"Seriously Rain, you need to get laid."

I gave him a long, far away look. "I don't know if…I can."

Claude's shoulders dropped. Concern was now spewing from him like a well equipped fountain. "Yes you can, honey. Ivan would have wanted you to."

I shrugged, covering myself up with a towel and the air of "I don't care". "Bruce wouldn't want to screw me anyways. I'm too mean."

"No, not to him you aren't." He showed me the picture again. "See how you guys are standing? You're casual here, nothing stiff or mean about you. Even your eyes are nonchalant."

"Alright, you little munchkin. Show me what I'm wearing today."

"I kept it light and simple. It's gonna rain later, so I brought you a coat. But anyways, here is a black, long sleeve shirt and True Religions with you favorite coach rain boots."

"Am I spending the day here, or going home?"

Claude smiled. "Whatever you want. You have today to catch up and tomorrow you can work your happy ass off at putting together this month's magazine." He stood and handed me a pile of folded clothes. "But if I were you, I would stay." He turned the newspaper I had been reading over and pointed to another section. "Looks like your handy work paid off. The trial for Tony Morris is tomorrow. You should go. I mean, he is being convicted of murdering your family."

"Yeah, sure. Just go with me."

"Oh, honey, you don't even have to ask. Take care, sugar." With a kiss and a wink, Claude pranced off all proud and princely like.

Breathless, I scrambled into the ensemble Claude had stuffed in my arms, not really giving a damn on my day off whether I was dressed or not. I slapped on a bit of makeup and slid out into the hall. It was quiet, the ancient feel of home surrounding all of my senses.

Down the hall, there was music coming from far off. It sounded dreamlike, something from one of my deepest of sleeps. I padded down the hall slowly, checking each room for the sound. As I came closer, it was a tune I recognized: Trois Gymnopedie. The closer I got, the more it swelled about the halls. I poked my head around a corner to find a large library. It was seemingly airy and open, with surround sound all along the walls, hidden in secret places. In the immediate center sat Bruce Wayne reading a book. I couldn't keep my smile down.

He turned to see who was intruding on his privacy—eyebrows pulled together in a seriously striking emotion of concentration. "You're awake."

"You sound surprised."

"I thought you would sleep through dinner."

"A healthy body needs to eat. Sleep is not the only source of energy it requires."

He smirked and stood with a crack of the bones. Stretching, his sweatshirt rose above his jeans and I could detect the faintest lines of muscle. I shivered.

"Cold?"

I met his gaze, my skin blushing. "Always."

"You're wearing nothing but cotton. Does Claude have anything for you?"

"Not that I know of. And, to be honest, I don't know where he went to."

"Claude does that a lot, doesn't he?"

"It's just how he is."

We stood there in an awkward silence. Why was it so weird for me to speak to him? He seemed troubled today. Like a large weight pressed against his shoulder blades. "Something the matter?"

"I don't like the fact that you are cold in my home. Come, let's fetch you something to wear."

Following him, I kept my mind from jumping to perilous heights. He was taking me to his room. Oh my lord! I had only been in Ivan's room a few times before he planted himself in my apartment. But this was Bruce's house and he was showing me to a place that only random one night stands saw. I gulped. I didn't want to be one of those. I wanted—

What did I want? I was spending more and more time with him.

_Shut up and stay focused, he's just getting you clothes_.

We had arrived at his holy headquarters. I tried not to gape—after all I was used to the high life. But this was…damn was it impressive. My attention lingered on the bed a bit too long for Bruce paused. I fumbled for some excuse as to why I was so fascinated with his luxurious bed. "So, is this where all the women come to be disappointed?"

"Women are never disappointed in this bed." He shot me a wicked grin.

"Of course not in that department. I mean when they wake up to find you gone and realize that they will never have a life with you? That sex is just sex with no strings attached?"

Bruce was at a definite loss for words. "Yes, I suppose that is true."

He then disappeared and reappeared before I even had a chance to fix my expression into a blank wall. "Thank you." I slid my arms into one of his sweaters—Burberry—and felt instant heat. I could think of other things that would warm me up, but that wasn't being offered.

Maybe Claude was right. I was suppressing myself. Celibacy was a life I couldn't handle.

"Um, Bruce?"

"Yes?"

_Kiss me_, my mind murmured. "Will you—forgive me? Your life is your personal business. I didn't mean to intrude."

"Oh, cut that out Lorraine. I've completely interfered with your life, now you are obliged to do the same." He stepped forward, brushed a strand behind my ear and left his hand on my shoulder—heavily weighing down on me. "But I can tell that asking for forgiveness isn't what you really wanted to say. Was there something else?"

Here was the moment. I could get laid and not be such a bitch anymore. I could finally have something hard between my legs that wasn't a "stick up the ass". Bruce leaned down, the scent of his aftershave mingling with my perfume. His breath went suddenly heavy, a deep rushing sound against my skin. His lips were so close…

"Let me know when dinner will be ready. I'll be outside." Glaring up at him, I set my jaw tightly.

Bruce's eyes were lidded darkly. His hands went limply to his sides. Straightening himself he nodded briskly. "Of course, Rain. Are you alright now? Is there anything I can get you?"

"Nope. Thanks." Scuttling, I found myself outside breathing in deeply. Calm down, girl. Not the time or place. I don't want to be just another blip on the radar. If I'm going to be involved with someone, he is going to be in a relationship with me. There will be a future and nothing less.

Oh, Bruce. You wouldn't have the nerve to date me. If you did, then your machismo style would be shot to hell—dating the ice queen. What a thought.

My cell rang unexpectedly. "Lorraine Drake speaking."

"Honey? It's mom. You're all over the news with Bruce Wayne. Is there something I should know?"

Anger was gently pressing against the inside of my skin. "Yes mother. There is something you should know—but not about Bruce. They have found the murderer of my husband and son."

"Oh." My mother was obviously feeling embarrassed and guilty. "Darling I…I don't know whether to congratulate you or offer my apologies."

"Both would do."

"Then I give you a healthy congratulations and a sincere apology. I didn't know."

"Thank you." I gave myself a little moment and then trudged on. "Bruce and I are partners in a business now so you will be seeing a lot of us together on screen. Nothing is happening."

"Do you hope something will? I know it's a little soon for you to be dating someone, much less having sex with them, but it's okay if you do."

"Momma, I have no hope for anything. I just want to stay young."

"We all do honey."

Oh god, my accent was coming out. Born in the south and living there for six years was not a helper to the elite society of Gotham. My mother had managed to drop it but when she got sentimental…well when we both did…it was a hoot.

"You be safe, ya hear me? When can I stop by for a visit?"

My heart melted just a slight bit. "Anytime you want. Just call first."

"Will do. Daddy says hello and says he loves you. Talk to you soon."

"Same to him. Bye, ma."

I clicked end and took a deep breath. Something was different today. I could feel it deep within my bone marrow. I had set the world right…I had given it justice. Sure, I still wanted to punch a brick wall but at least I had done my part in society. My phone beeped once and a simple txt from Bruce stating that dinner was ready had me bounding off back to the mansion. I had no difficulty finding where we were dinning for Bruce was sitting outside by a neatly dressed table. Standing, he guided me to a seat and flopped back beside me with a long appraising stare. "Have a good walk?"

"Yes, I did." I took a long breath, and waited before I spoke again. I couldn't let my accent shine in front of Bruce. "My ma—mother called. She is happy for me that the police finally caught Tony Morris."

"Interesting. Tell me, who is this Gracen Snow you've hired to work at _Crimson_?"

So that's what the hard look was for.

"Claude's quitting and I needed someone's help. His notorious expertise and unbounded sense of fashion gave me appropriate consideration to hire him."

"Claude is an assistant—you hired a partner."

"Claude did more than just assist. How many countless hours did this man help me at night, piecing together _Crimson_ for each issue, I can't even begin to tell you." I took a small sip of the white wine and smiled.

"He seems like a rapist to me. I'm sure he's just dying to conquer the ice queen."

"Many wish but none succeed." It was going to take a lot more wine to calm my nerves.

There was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. His jaw line soon straightened and he was able to carry on. "I'm worried about you with men like that. You don't necessarily stay away from trouble."

"I enjoy trouble. It's makes life live-able."

"It cost your family's lives."

I couldn't believe what he had just said to me. Slamming my napkin down on the table, I stood up to leave. "My family did not die because of me. They died because…"

"Because your husband couldn't keep his dick in his pants? Because he didn't care enough about his own family? Because he embezzled and someone found out?" He was standing now too, eye squarely examining me. "Do you really, truly, love him still? I think the love you had for him was over long before his death."

"We had a child!" There was a frog in my throat. Was that sickening cry from me? "I had a boy…a helpless, allergy ridden, happy go lucky, boy."

Were those tears? I was crying again, wasn't I?

"I just want you to be safe." I felt my body hit a wall—Bruce. Something warm brushed my forehead. A kiss. "Please, Lorraine. Could you do that for me? Could you please be careful?"

"Why do you care so much? Why…?"

"That's not for you to worry about at the moment. Just promise me…"

I swallowed a couple of times, blinked, and straightened myself out. "I promise."

"Good, now let's eat before you pass out."

I didn't say a word the rest of the night.


	10. Fights

I missed him. There was just no way of explaining it, but I did. I missed Bruce Wayne. His company had oddly fused into my existence so quickly that now, if I ever tried to remove him, I would be stuck in an endless boredom. I was highly entertained by the man in the bat suit who was pining after me.

Or so I thought. Newspapers the next morning proved to be oddly troubling. Helena Bogart, infamous fashion model, had now had three dates with the infamous rake that was Bruce Wayne. I sat at my breakfast table, reading and scanning the papers. Same old, same old, save for the announcement of Tony Morris' tribunal. Speculation was high as to whether I would attend and researchers had gone to find out about my past again. They would only find out thing from a particular date and onward—my younger years would not be revealed to anyone but the president and his secretary of defense.

_Lorraine Drake, noted chief and editor of Crimson Magazine is speculated to attend the tribunal of Tony Morris for the murder of her husband and son. At right, a picture of the family just three days before the murder, shows the infamous Ice Queen smiling—a first for photographs. Many have been questioned about Miss. Drake's previous behaviour before the murder, many simply stating that she was a delight to be around. Will the justice of her family's murderer bring about that smile again? Or has the ice completely consumed her?_

I couldn't help but laugh—though briefly. The picture at right was a happy one, though a bit forced. I thought back to that day and exactly what I was feeling. Her mind sucked itself inward to a part of her that had been dormant for many months. It had been warm that day. The leaves were no longer upon the branches. She could feel the weight of her husband's betrayal weighing heavily upon her heart—but the love for him outran any feeling of abandonment. Her hands tingled with the feel of his skin against hers, her son's head resting happily against her shoulder in a way that only a mother would understand. Complete and utter devotion, not a hint of doubt in his small little mind of the dangers that her mother faced, were all hers to consume from her little boy.

"Smile for the camera!" Claude had cheerfully exclaimed.

A flash and they were forever locked in a black and white photo. If only she had known of the terrible things that were to come…

"Good morning, ice queen!" A chipper voice pronounced from the hall. She glanced up to see Claude, Bruce in tow. "Busy day today. You've got to train that hot young stud and then it's off to the hearing."

Bruce grumbled something incoherently as he disappeared inside my kitchen, some bags rustling against his thigh. I didn't have time to question him when I was hauled off into my bathroom. "Please, Claude. Just find me something casual."

"The Queen of _Crimson_ does not dress fashionable. She dresses to intimidate and impress. Come on, honey, lighten up. You have got to make this man Gracen want to be your bitch and for Morris so squirm in his seat."

I couldn't even contemplate what Claude would be thinking of until he came out with a steel corset, black leggings, and thigh high heels. "You are really trying to kill me."

"Nope, just making you look the best. Three years until you're thirty."

"Shhh! Don't even mention it."

Claude rolled his eyes. "Oh please, muffin. You have got to get over the fact that you will be thirty. It isn't a death wish you know. I'm thirty one."

"Oh my god. Isn't that like, a sin, for you to admit your age?" I gave Claude my sweetest smile and most innocent look.

"Not when I'm telling it to the devil. It's going to rain today, so I have a black overcoat for you."

I clacked out on my marble floors into the dining room, digging in my purse for my blackberry. There was a drop of a container and a long pause of silence in the air. I glanced up from what I was doing to take a look at Bruce. Mouth hanging open, he gaped at me from toe to head. Many expressions passed over his gorgeously tanned skin in milliseconds.

My fridge shook with the slam that came next. "Claude!"

Claude came traipsing out smiling like a happy mother. "Yes, Master Wayne."

"What. The. Fuck. Claude? She is not wearing that!"

"I'll where whatever the hell I want!" I charged at Bruce before he could even get another mouthful in. I pressed him into the wall, one knee digging into his inner thigh. "You are not the boss of me, Bruce. I told you my terms."

"Yes, and as I recall you didn't want any publicity and so far you've had no problem with that You've missed a day of work and you've also spent the night at my house. The only request that hasn't been broken is that you have a batsuit."

My fists clenched violently, the whites of my knuckles showing. I raised a hand and swiftly took out the drywall next to Bruce's head. "So what? Not like I can stop any of it any way! I got what I wanted. Tony Morris will be put on death row for burning my family alive and I won't have to be Batwoman anymore!"

"Come on, Raine!"

"Shut up! Just…shut…up! I'm done. I am done! Have fun with your little bunny whores and your little charade because I don't want to do it anymore."

Grabbing my bag and coat, I stormed from the apartment leaving dust and rubble in my wake.

* * *

"Holy shit, Raine."

"I know…I know. I blew up."

Claude was keeping good pace with me as I pounded my way into my office. "Baby, you're sweet when you want to be but you've got to calm down. Bruce was only showing you the truth."

"Claude," I shucked my bag and coat into a closet, threw hands on hips, and turned to survey my best friend, "I am well aware of that. But I am dealing with too much right now to care. I have a new partner here at _Crimson_, my body hurts in places it shouldn't, I haven't had sex in like half a year, an ever rising infatuation with the God of all that is Princely, my son's birthday is coming up, and this magazine is due in a week and I'm behind."

"Lorraine, you needn't worry. I'm right here for you. The magazine is almost done, Gracen is already trained, and Bruce has the same affections for you that you have for him."

I paused in my rampage to feel a glimmer of relief. "You took care of things?"

"Yesterday, while you were shacking up with lover boy, I got the whole floor and a couple of others to hustle and complete four fifths of it. Gracen didn't really need to be trained—seemed like he already knew most of the procedures."

"If you were a straight man I would marry you."

Claude smiled happily if not a bit smugly. "Yes, I know. But you have Bruce wrapped around your fingers so you won't be needing me."

"Yeah, then why has he gone out with that…what the hell is her name? Helen?"

"So, you're admitting it."

"Admitting what?"

Claude took a smirk into his cup of coffee. "You're admitting your feelings for the Prince of Gotham."

Temptation was nagging at me to throw something, but I had to keep calm. "I...don't really know if I am. I mean, he is obviously involved with someone else and—"

"Cut the shit. Tell me that you're in love with him and I'll drop the subject."

I was about to answer when a very handsome and very available man by the name of Gracen sauntered into my office. I held up a finger to Claude as he motioned to speak. "I'll see you in an hour Claude."

I stood up from leaning against my desk to take in the sight of him. "Good morning, Mr. Snow."

"Gracen, please. May I call you Lorraine."

"Of course. I hear you don't need much training. So, I've decided we should hit the main room and see what my little designers are concocting."

"Sounds splendid." Gracen gave me a wonderful smile full of white teeth and sparkling eyes. I almost gasped at the sight of his canines, but decided to pretend not to notice. They were a bit elongated, not to abnormally, but still. There was a difference. "I have also a request to make of you."

"Ah, and that would be?" I took a few steps over to my closet and felt the warmth of Gracen's eyes on my skin.

"Tonight _Crimson_ is hosting a bit of a party. Many celebrities will be attending, many politicians, and Bruce Wayne along with his little pet, Helen Cornova. I was hoping, if I'm not too late, that you were attending."

I had completely blanked on the party that evening. "I have a bit of a hearing to attend to."

"Party doesn't start until eleven. You will have plenty of time."

I chuckled and agreed. Heading for the door, Gracen stood in front of me. He smelt musky, the scent of a man who hunted. "Would you mind allowing me to be your escort?"

"Oh, usually Claude does those things, so you needn't bother yourself with making sure I don't get shot."

He brushed a hand across my cheek. The touch shocked me still. "Not as that kind of escort. I was thinking more along the lines of your date for the evening."

_Ding Ding Ding!_ Maybe getting laid wouldn't be such a problem after all. I stepped back behind my desk, flipped open my planner, scanned a few pages, jotted down some notes, made a phone call to Karen and then finally spared Gracen an answer. "I believe that would be quite agreeable."

He shot me his award winning smile and nodded. "Was it completely necessary to make me wait?"

"When I am the prize to be won, it sure as hell is."

Gracen chuckled and left me to my peace. However, there was no peace to be had for me. While staring out my vast windows overlooking the city in it's height of daylight guilt overrode me with a vengeance.

Picking up the phone, I dialed Bruce's office.

"Bruce Wayne's office."

"Hello, this is Lorraine Drake from _Crimson_ Magazine. I need to speak to Bruce Wayne immediately."

"Please hold."

Well, they certainly weren't very friendly over there. Maybe it was because she knew I was a bitch.

"Raine?" Why was it that his voice made my heart flutter?

"Bruce, I need to speak with you."

"Lunch."

"Yes."

There was a slight rustle of paper. "Meet me at _Goose _in forty five." There was a pause. "And Raine?"

"Yes?"

"Wear a coat."

There was silence on the other end as I at dumbstruck and slightly sad at the silence.

* * *

Bruce Wayne arrived first, and sat down at a table close to the center of the room. Many pairs of eyes were burning his skin, but he couldn't care less. Without even looking at the menu, he ordered a fifty year old Chardonnay for the both of them. He sat for maybe five minutes when there was a slight clamor at the door. Waiters practically swam away from the magnetic field that was Lorraine Drake.

She came in, Chanel glasses covering her eyes, hair falling over her shoulders, and long peacoat tied tightly at the waist, carrying an orange Marc by Marc Jacobs bag, and looking every bit the Ice Queen she was known to be. Her heeled boots, however, showed as she stalked over through the main lobby towards him.

Then, the strangest thing happened. As she kept her gaze on him, flicking off her sunglasses, hair slightly flinging out, she smiled—a genuine smile. It could have sparkled. The din slowly went quiet as she came to him, the look of friendship hovering across her eyes, lips and cheeks with a warm glamour. Bruce stood, pulling out her chair for her. Even as she sat, her entire image sparkled. Bruce felt his skin begin to tingle as his hand brushed against hers. It was involuntary—it was right.

"I see you've ordered me a perfect cure to my day." She was already sipping on the wine as he sat himself back down.

"I thought we both could use something to cool us down." Bruce glanced at her, watching her as she studied the menu. Her eyebrows rose and fell with the quick movements of her eyes. One moment her eyes were down and the next she was gazing up at him from beneath her lashes. "I cannot hold it off any longer." Thrusting the menu forward, she flung her hair back. Lorraine's jaw set into a grim line. "I apologize for my despicable behavior this morning. I am still in. You just can't—say anything about my family."

Now she was no longer looking at him, but past him, past everything into a world only she could see.

"Lorraine, I accept your apology as long as you accept mine."

She licked her lips slightly in thought. Then, straightening, she offered a pleasant and dangerous grin. "Well, as long as we both understand each other that seems to be better. And, as long as we're having lunch together, we might as well take our friendship public. I starting to not feel threatened by the public. Besides, it's better this way."

Bruce's mouth almost dropped. "What?"

"Better to be friends than enemies. On top of that, you're sort of my boss." She flushed somewhat as if she was telling a mysterious secret to herself.

Bruce's interests peaked. She was absolutely stunning today. Something about her…

"Gracen Snow is to escort me tonight to the _Crimson_ party tonight."

Damn. That was it. She had a new love interest. More importantly, he was jealous. That bastard was going to take Lorraine and he had to take the highly sexual Helen Cornova. He had slept with her twice but the adventure had been almost too much for him. She was too—adapt to the act. Plus, she was a woman who enjoyed many encounters with men at night.

But she appeared wonderful on the arm.

Not as good as Raine would though.

"Bruce?"

"You shouldn't go with him."

Her lips suddenly fell into a cruel line. "Why not?"

"He's dangerous. His reputation—"

"Is exactly why I accepted his offer. I need a man with reputation to quell the fire."

Bruce's mouth almost dropped. She didn't have to spell it out for him. She wanted to have sex, straight and simple. She was dying for it just by allowing her self to be eaten by a wolf. His voice box wouldn't work; his emotions went haywire, and his entire body immobile. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Lorraine…"

"Look, it's not like I'll be alone. Claude will be on my arm constantly and I'll be surrounded by colleagues. He won't pull anything in front of them."

"But when you go home…"

"That's none of your business." She cleared her glass of its contents and began to eat a small salad she had ordered.

He watched while she ate, speechless to say the least. Bruce could not help himself as he observed how she moved. Oddly it felt so normal to him—like he'd watched her eat several times. "Lorraine?"

She paused, glancing up while still chewing.

"You are a very beautiful woman."

There seemed to be a long drag, a yanking sensation on his skin. There was a new rosy flush to her cheeks and neck as she dropped her gaze down to her food. "Thank you."

"Never say thank you for that. It should be a respect paid to you always, never to be returned."

Lorraine pushed aside her food, folded her hands in her lap and decided to glare at him. "What is your deal, Bruce Wayne? You act like a mad man. You don't want me to do this, order me around, act obnoxiously overprotective, and pay me unneeded compliments. You have your play toy and therefore I am unwilling to share."

"What do you mean by that?" Bruce's alarms went off instantaneously.

"I have to jet, court stuff. Catch you tonight." Lorraine stood, handbag in clutches, and looking ethereally over the crowd. Everyone was still staring at her, but that didn't bother Lorraine Drake. She nodded politely to Bruce and was off towards the front.

The check was brought to him in only a few seconds after that. He glanced at the bill and saw that she had already taken care of her own charges. Bruce shook his head, ordered for the payment to be withdrawn from her credit card and tabbed onto his.

Smiling into his wine, Bruce found that he was suddenly extremely happy. Not because of the entertainment which could always be found with Raine, or the way she appeared all high and mighty. No.

It was because he was falling in love with her.

And she was doing the same.


	11. Finding A Way

My stomach was in a knot so tight I thought my whole skin was going to form with it. I had the worst feeling that nothing was going to work out. That Tony Morris would not be sent to prison, that I would forever be haunted by my husband, that there would never be any hope of me loving and living again.

One glance at Claudius and I had two Vicodin in my hand. Downing them with a gush of water, my whole insides turned to sleep. I felt much better after forty five minutes, and by that time, the trial was about to begin.

The pretentious eyes of all Gotham society glued themselves on my clothes as I strutted to take a seat up front. I was not going to miss out on this one opportunity to see the man who killed my family burn—if that was what was to happen.

Claude sat down giving all the people around us a sharp stare. He didn't take nicely to people who were bound to make my life a mess. But both of our attentions snapped forward as the Judge's door opened. In synch, we all rose with prayers on my lips that he would sentence this man to the electric chair.

This judge, as far as I could see, had the mannerisms of someone who didn't mess around. His movements snapped with each flick of the wrist and rise of the eyebrow. He spared me one glance, and wouldn't look at me again for a while. It was then that Morris was brought out in handcuffs to watch his proceedings. His eyes were on me—trying to place my face. He wouldn't be able to. My voice was hitched at a different lilt and my face was completely uncovered. There was no shame for me. Only him.

The Judge broke out in a strong voice to begin the hearing…

* * *

"Miss. Drake! Miss. Drake!" The paparazzi cameras snapped into focus the minute I burst from the Town Hall doors. The happiness from my smile set the whole evening aglow. Being in such a good mood, I decided to give the hounds what they desired.

"Miss. Drake! How do you feel about helping to convict Tony Morris to the death sentence?"

I smiled, placed my hand on Claude's arm, and spoke without waver. "Considering he gave my family their own death sentence, I believe it to be well deserved." There was a small silence. They could not believe I was actually smiling about killing a man. And the best part was—it did not bother me one bit. Whatever lies they would spread over the newspapers was of no consequence to me. The street was lit up again with the buzzing of shouts for my attention. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but I have an event to attend."

With heels clacking, I marched on into my Town Car and drove off laughing merrily on the way.

* * *

Claude clapped his hands in worship. "God, I wish I had been born a girl."

"So I take it that you like this?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely. I envy you."

I took a small twirl for him to have the full affect. The outfit, bought earlier that morning from Dior, was something of a superfluous scandal. I wore a black leotard underneath a long, figure forming, sheer cascade of black material. My legs look impossibly toned and long, my waist thin as a pin, and my shoulders that of a goddess. Simple black heels, hair teased and slightly eccentric, I looked the spinning image of my models. It was perfect.

Claude just shook his head in jealousy. "You can't claim all of the praise, you know. I did help put together the ensemble."

I giggled quietly to myself. "I shall be sure to mention you to the hounds."

"Thank you, oh mighty Ice Queen."

The doorbell rang just then. Giving Claude my worst look, I sauntered over to the door and opened it. There stood Gracen, arm supporting his weight in the door frame, dressed more glorious than I could have imagined. He was not the Prince of Gotham—but the devil himself. My insides lit on fire.

"I thought to bring you flowers…but that seemed too cliché for my Queen. So, I brought a garden instead."

Raising his hand and snapping his fingers, several men appeared holding all sorts of plants in odd shapes. I could feel myself sway into the smell of them.

"I heard from some helpful resources that you enjoyed the scents of Zen gardens. I hope you enjoy them." He shot me a wicked grin. Then, with hooded eyes, he took in what I was wearing. Our eyes locked for a small moment when Claude appeared.

"You take care of my girl, understand? Anything happens to her, I got a .45 and a shovel. I doubt anybody would miss you."

I didn't even flinch at Claude being an ass. Even Gracen took it lightly. "Clueless. Classic movie representing the prep and posh of the nineties. Do not worry, I shall make sure she returns safely to you."

Gracen shut the door behind me pausing ever so slightly to take my hand and place it on his arm. The valet brought around his limo, and we were off, chatting about this and that. How he got started in the business, how I got started in Fashion, how we both managed to climb our way on top, horror stories, and stories that sent me into hysterics. It was all good fun and I was enjoying myself.

Until we stepped from the limo and into the flashing lights. My heart beat fled in my chest at the sight of the turn out. Every smug asshole of Gotham was there to see me—and undoubtedly gossip about how I smiled at the prospect of Tony Morris being put to death. Sticking my chin up high, I waltzed my way through the crowd, knocking over half hearted hellos and how do you do's. This was my night, _Crimson_'s gala. No one was going to act superior on my turf.

The moment I spotted Bruce, my exterior wall shattered. There he was with his little pet on a string in tow. Helen Merlow of San Francisco. Tall, blonde, tan with shiny white teeth she was typical Bruce bait.

I didn't pull out of my mental mocking of her for a while…but when Bruce started to walk over to me with her I felt a heavy led rock in my stomach. It felt wrong, this situation. Completely wrong.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne. Glad you could make it." This night was business. We couldn't get too close to one another. Not now.

"Miss. Drake. Thank you for throwing this big bash. May I introduce Helen Merlow?"

The woman's knees seemed to shake as she took her eyes off Bruce and stuck them to me. So she had been warned of my personality. Good.

"Well aren't you the little Helen of Troy. You look just like her."

The woman was taken back for a moment. "Thank you, Miss. Drake."

"Yes, I can see it. Stealing a man's heart and bringing down civilizations one at a time."

The smile was swept clear off her face. "Have fun." I gave her a crude look and stalked away, leaving winds of ice in my wake.

Gracen laughed to himself at that small introduction. "I believe, my lady, that you have an uncanny ability to destroy even the highest of egos."

"I have been told that is my main talent."

We both laughed. The knot in my stomach tightened even further. This was messed up somehow. I wasn't supposed to be here. There was something I needed to do. Something…important.

"Listen, Gracen, I know we just got here, but there is something I need to do."

Gracen just looked down at me with a small twinkling smile. "Slip out the back. No one will notice you're gone."

"Ah, then you don't know the _Crimson_ crowd too well." I didn't wait for a response. Instead, I kissed Gracen's cheek and dashed out from under the crowd hoping no one would notice.

* * *

Bruce eyed Alfred with increasing anxiety. Raine was gone. Vanished. She was no where in sight and that bastard Gracen wasn't helping. He kept his lips shut saying he didn't know where she went. Bruce darted out the side door ten minutes later as Alfred brought around his Aston-Martin. Hopping in, he pressed forward, his instincts guiding the way. There was only one place Lorraine Drake could be at this hour.

The graveyard came into his vision only minutes later, the grey tombstones plummeting up towards the sky. Almost like a clear point for soul and body to mingle one last time. Parking his vehicle, he raced out into the rain. He couldn't believe he knew where Ivan Drake's headstone was but there he was, ascending to his resting place and the heap beside it.

Bending down not caring to get all caked with mud, Bruce picked up Lorraine's slightly limp body. She was heaving from the cold and, from what Bruce could tell, crying. She wrapped her arms about his neck and gently sobbed. Leaning back, she just stared up at him from beneath her lashes. Bruce's heart quickened. Her mascara was all over her cheeks but she looked even more a beautiful mess than before.

"It's over." She mumbled. "He has been brought to justice. And I can finally let go." Lorraine knelt her lips up to him and Bruce was kissed first by a woman. The deepness of her kiss was intoxicating. Her inhibitions, cruelty, aggravation…it all slipped away from beneath her. She simply existed in his arms. Breathing for the first time in months.

And Bruce knew that there wouldn't be another moment in a long time to say what he needed to say. "Raine, look at me."

Lorraine Drake bent her head back from kissing him.

"Love always has a way of finding you."

"What are you saying?" She was barely audible over the sound of the rain.

"I'm saying," Bruce took a slight pause, "that there was a reason for all of this. There is a reason for everything. Reason brought me to you. Reason has made me love you."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Are you trying to tell me that you love me?"

"Yes."

"Beside my husband's grave?"

Bruce could feel his cheeks blush. "Yes."

"You have some nerve."

"Love never obeyed propriety."

She was kissing him again. Bruce knew that she had accepted his statement and it would be processed in time. Just as long as she wasn't running from him or kicking his ass, he didn't mind that she hadn't answered. Instead, the steady kisses from her lips made him drunk with longing. He would have her, if she would just give in. It would take patience…but love would find a way.


	12. Unexpected Return

I couldn't have shot out of my deep slumber any faster had it been lit on fire. Where was I? How did I get home? And…Oh my god! Who was that next to me? Wincing, hoping beyond all hope that it wasn't Bruce, I pulled back the covers.

Claude lay next to me, his hair all askew and his snoring not belonging to a Drama Queen. I realized, with sudden clarity, that I was home in my own bed. Everything was alright. I was okay. I wasn't hung over. Bruce wasn't in my apartment. Life was alright. Glancing down to notice I was in only my underwear I shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling. I slowly made my way from bedroom to kitchen where I took out my good bottle of Vodka. It was going to burn like a bitch down my throat but I needed anything to get rid of my memories from last night.

"You're not going to start drinking this early, are you?"

All of my movements stopped. Creaking around, I found Bruce Wayne with only his slacks on wandering about my living room. Once my eyes lingered on his chest a bit too long, I popped off the top of the bottle and began to pour. Bruce came around the bar and stopped. _Yes, Bruce, I'm completely naked but it's okay because this is my loft and you are intruding. This is what any normal person would do had there been no one here._

"You can stop staring now."

Bruce cleared his throat, disappeared into the den and cleared his throat again. "Pour me a glass as well."

It took only a minute for me to throw on something simple and present Bruce with his glass of straight Vodka. Knocking drinks together, we downed it with one swig. I thought I was going to gag but hey, it was much needed.

Bruce leaned back, his arm resting behind me. His finger trailed along my back, playing with the hair that rested there. "About last night…nothing happened, okay? We didn't…" He began.

"Hey, listen, you don't need to explain. Everything is okay. Let's just go to work and…work…"

"Yes, that would be what one does at work, however, I was thinking of taking a small trip."

"Oh, where to?"

"Denver, to meet your parents."

"That is not a small trip. That is half a year sucked away."

Bruce followed me back into the kitchen. "It'll be fun! You're parents seemed to like me when we first met."

"Yeah but that was before all of this shit just…I mean before we…you…I mean before there was a possibility of us."

Bruce went dead still. "Is there an 'us'?"

Good question. Was there? All ulterior natures had practically pushed us together. So, was this it? My husband's death. My son's death. Bruce coming back. I was beginning to be happy once again.

I was about to answer when Claude practically screamed from inside my bedroom. My legs didn't even twitch before he was shuffling outside and into my living room, his face whiter than mine. He wasted no time, grabbed the remote, pressed the on button, scanned a couple channels, and then went dead still. He had turned on the news and the sound was on so loud that the words echoed throughout my body.

"Again this news has just come in about a few minutes ago. Ivan Drake was found earlier this morning on the banks of the Hudson. He is currently alive and being treated at Gotham's General Hospital."

Just then, my doorbell rang.

My skin burned with the eyes that stuck to my skin as I pounded through the hallways of Gotham's General. The third door at the end of the hall to the left held something I had mourned over for seven months now. I slowed as the door came in to view. The heavy oak was partially closed. There was no movement within the room.

I had often wondered in these last seven months, if Ivan somehow came back, would I still love him? What would I say? How would I handle this whole situation?

I was about to find out.

Flinging back my hair, I cleared my beating heart from my throat. The room was dark, the sound of machines a distant noise in my ears. Underneath green covers and shrouded in scabs lay a man. His hair was dark, his fingers twitched gently against his thigh. But he was awake. And Ivan was turning his attention from the window to me.

"Lorraine." His voice was harsh. Like he hadn't spoken in many, many weeks.

Slowly realizing that he was holding up a hand to me, I went to him. But something was wrong with me. Somewhere beneath the surface of my smooth skin was an ice that I couldn't shake.

I took his hand gently never allowing my attention to leave him. And I stood like that, holding his hand, watching him fall back into a deep sleep, for three hours. I stood in my Prada heels clutching on to my husband's hand. And as I stood there, I came to the worst conclusion of my entire twenty seven years. Ivan Drake was not the man he once was. Of course his features were still the same, his curly man of black hair slightly brushing against his forehead and cheekbones. He looked as peaceful as death—which is what I had thought had happened to him. But inside there appeared to be someone different. And it was the same for me. Now as I watched my husband sleep I felt no love and passion that I had felt a year ago. The only love I felt was that of a family member. All of the late nights, the arguments, the desperate tears…none of that had mattered when he was dead except to make me feel guilty. But now that he existed….

Ivan Drake was no longer the man I loved. That man was in my loft right now probably feeling like shit.

Pressing send, I tried Bruce's cell three times. I even left a message. But no reply. So I sat next to my husband, gazing down upon his sleeping form. It was evening when he awoke once more. This time, he was more aware than earlier. "Raine?" He asked me, his voice sounding slightly thicker and less husky. "Baby? Is that really you?"

"Yeah, Ivan, it's me."

"Oh, sweetheart. I am so glad you're here. How did you know?" His hand held mine even tighter now.

"The police came to me about an hour ago. Plus you were on the news. You don't have to speak. Just sit a while."

He opened his mouth to reply when my cell rang. "This is Lorraine." I mumbled quietly into the receiver.

"Raine. I got your message. I'm sorry I didn't call back. I was busy. We need to talk."

"I know. Can it wait?" Glancing at Ivan I found his expression full of questions. "I have some things to discuss with other people as well."

"I love you, Lorraine. Just wanted you to know that." The click at the other end was definite.

"Who was that?"

I didn't answer. Ivan shook my hand. "Look at me." So I did though it almost killed me. "Someone I should know about?"

"Not now, Ivan. You need to get better."

"No. I need to know exactly what I've been missing." His eyes were narrowed on mine. "I will tell you when you can stand, at least."

He didn't answer. Instead, his eyelids grew heavy once more. In those first few moments before he fell asleep I could see the relief in his eyes. Relief that he was alive, that I was alive, and that we were together again. Love lingered there. My heart broke a fraction more at the realization that what I was about to do would kill Ivan all over again. But everyone deserves their happiness, right?

Wayne Manor was dark as I drove up to the front entrance. But I knew he would be awake. Bruce said he would be here in a text I got earlier. Climbing out and up the steps I felt even sicker than I had his morning. Alfred answered the door with a solemn mask on his face. I hugged him roughly, the tears in my eyes pooling.

"Now, now, Mrs. Washington…"

"Don't ever call me that. That name does not belong to me anymore…"

I side stepped Alfred and headed up to Bruce's bedroom. That is where he would be, probably asleep. I didn't bother knocking. Instead, I intruded on his personal space. I dropped my purse, jacket and shoes in random places on my way to the large mattress in front of me. Climbing, I found my way into Bruce Wayne's bed. His chest was bare, but he was wearing boxers. Running my hand over his figure, I pulled at him. He woke somewhat startled, but didn't turn to kill me like he would if anyone else was in his bed. I rolled myself over him, hair flinging wildly to one side.

"Lorraine what are you—"

I placed my fingers over his lips and leaned down to his ear. "Hold me."

Bruce lay silently beneath me. "Ivan…"

"Does not matter right now. I just need you to hold me."

It Bruce a moment to move his arms, the stone like quality of them enveloping me in a soft cocoon of flesh and muscle. There I stayed until morning when, upon the sun's swift rays, I left. There were some things I needed to finish. And if I was going to truly love Bruce Wayne, they had to be finished within the next few days.


	13. Coming Back

Ivan Washington stepped over the threshold to his wife's apartment. All was still, not one movement but the sound of his pants rubbing together while he walked into an unknown domain. The loft was tidily dressed in light colors with large windows looking out at the city. An open bottle of Vodka sat on the counter. Two empty glasses next to it. Had Lorraine entertained company? A man, perhaps? He ignored the glasses and found himself in her bedroom. It smelled of her perfume—Paris by YSL. Her covers were slightly askew. Like someone bolted out of a deep sleep but did not have time to make the covers upon leaving. To his right was a large bathroom, makeup scattered about the countertop. Her closet opened up to him like a gaping cave full of her second skin she wore outside every day. A slight pain splintered his right arm. Flexing the strained muscle with a wince the pain receded. Walking around was so much easier than it had been a few days prior.

Ivan ignored the closet and headed towards the den once more. On the coffee table were clippings of new articles—all of Lorraine. _"Ice Queen Spotted With Bruce Wayne" _and _"Lorraine Drake Notorious Ice Queen Replaces Longtime Partner Claude: Details Inside"_. Ivan was confused to say the least. His wife was no Ice Queen. She was loving, sweet, understanding of his mistakes. And Bruce Wayne…wasn't he dead? I guess ghosts do really come back to life, Ivan pondered. He was living proof.

What had Raine been up to while he was gone? It would be eight months tomorrow that he would have died. Did she mourn for him? How long did she wait until she started to feel alive again? Knowing Lorraine, it would have taken several months. She never got over things quickly. Her heart was never on her sleeve but it did exist way deep beneath the surface.

There was a noise outside in the hall and then within the loft. A man not much taller than Ivan came through with a bundle of bags and a newspaper in his mouth. He mumbled something like "The things I do for that woman…" before he noticed Ivan standing in plain sight. "Well, I suspected you would be here at some point. Has Lorraine come back yet?"

"I didn't know she left. You are?"

"Claudius. Lorraine's…uh, assistant."

Ivan gave him a probing glance.

"I'm gay."

Ivan's suspicions dropped. "You obviously know who I am. I never met you in person before…well. Before. But now that I have, I am pleased. Where is she?"

"Who, Lorraine?"

"Yeah."

"She left a few days ago. She won't answer her cell and she apparently hasn't come back yet."

Ivan went to help Claude with his bundles, but the man refused. "Personal items for the lady of the house. Make yourself comfortable."

"Do you know when she will be back?"

"That, I cannot tell you. As to what she is up to, that's a secret."

Ivan did not like the sound of that. Not at all. "You know what she is doing?"

"Of course I know what she is doing. She faxed me the paperwork this morning."

"Oh, so she's working?"

Claude came out from Lorraine's bedroom. "Working as in fashion, I would say no. Working on her personal life—that would be a yes."

Ivan's eye caught the boxes out in the hall that Claude started to haul in. They were moving boxes. Used to carry heavy loads. "Excuse me but what are you doing?"

"Getting ready for Lorraine's big move. She's transferring closer inland, right in the heart of Gotham. Better for work and her role in society. Plus, other people are closer to her. The place she just bought—my God—you should see it. Posh, darling, very posh."

"And do I play into any of this?"

Claude paused for a moment to think. He spoke very carefully, very slowly. "This loft she is giving to you, part of her severance package."

"I'm sorry," Ivan took a step closer, "But are you trying to tell me something?"

"Raine will tell you when she gets back. As for now, I have a lot of work to do."

Claude said no more. His quick movements revealed the intensity of the secrets he was withholding from Ivan. Without another word he left to find a place to stay feeling like a rock had imploded on his stomach.

* * *

"You sure you want to do this? Divorcing a husband who has just come back from the dead is pretty heavy, Raine." Claude's voice was thick with sympathy over the speaker.

Clutching the phone closer to my ear, I whispered my response. "I should have done this a long time ago. I can't go back to the way things were. You…you weren't there when…"

"I know. When he cheated on you, left you to take care of your son, and became a workaholic. Typical story, Lorraine. So many women do it and have it done to them. But they don't divorce their husbands after a tragic experience."

I took a moment to breathe. Yelling at Claude was not a good idea. He was the only friend I could rely on at the moment. "There is something wrong with him, Claudius. He's just not—the same. And he wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked what happened to him."

"He didn't say anything, nothing at all, to give you a small clue?"

"Not one word. I'm his wife. Don't you think that's a bit fishy?"

Claude paused. "I'll have Alfred and Bruce scope it out. But I don't need to tell Bruce once. He's scouring the city for you. And because you made me swear not to tell him where you were it's driving him mad. He's digging up every whiff of Ivan Washington that he can. Anything that smells like fish and Bruce will be right on it."

"Thanks Claude."

"I like this brighter side of you. Makes life less complicated."

"Want me to give you some of mine?"

"I'm good. Have fun out there."

I didn't need to say anymore. Hanging up the phone, I stared out of my own private apartment in the Brown Palace smack dab in Denver. It was lively here, full of people who I didn't know and didn't know me. One more day and I could return. All I needed were the divorce papers—

A knock sounded at my door. Sliding underneath the crease was a packet addressed to me. Picking it up the weight of its finality was something to behold. This was the key to me letting go. So many months of mourning him and now…

What is done is done. I can't go back.

I took out a pen with a sigh. Like blood on skin, I wrote my name in the lines provided, curving upwards and down with the ink. By my own hand, I had created and destroyed a marriage.

I picked up my small amount of luggage and proceeded for the check out counter. Time to go back to life.


	14. Secret Affair

Frank Sinatra was playing throughout the loft. Someone was in my house. Peering around the corner, I found him. My husband, chopping green peppers and humming along. I blinked a few times. Déjà vu…this was exactly what it felt like. Only the people and their emotions changed drastically—but the setting was mostly the same. Our house was gone, but kitchens were kitchens. And husbands were husbands.

"Welcome home. I thought you might be returning soon, so I've been making us some Beef Stroganoff."

"I'm not hungry."

Ivan placed the knife down, whipped his hands, and turned to me. "Baby, can we talk about this later? I have missed you. I would very much enjoy a nice dinner in your company. It's been many months."

"Where were you? I saw your body in the casket…I buried you."

"Remember Romeo and Juliet?" After I didn't answer, he went on. "She poisoned herself to feign being dead but in reality she would wake at an appointed time. It was the same for me."

"But why?"

He chuckled, pouring some olive oil into a pan and watching it sizzle. "To keep me safe. Our son I couldn't save. He would have never been safe and the devastation of loosing him after more years of memories would have been tragic for us both. But we can start again."

"Are you crazy?" The question was almost a half whisper.

Ivan stared up at me in surprise. "I cannot explain the details of my escape to you or from whom I needed protection from, but I am no different as I was then. And if you would like a child, I would gladly be willing to help." He smiled. In it I could read smugness.

I grabbed for my keys and purse realizing that home was now no longer safe. "Granting me children isn't a privilege." I slammed the documents I had been hiding down on the counter. "I will not ask any questions or demand any answers. Just sign the damn papers."

* * *

Wayne Manor was dark when I entered. "Hey Alfred. I need to see Bruce."

"He's not here Miss. Master Wayne is never around the manor anymore." Alfred went to take my coat, but I stopped him.

"Then you have to tell me where I can find him. We have matters to discuss." I gave him my most disparaging look and waited.

Alfred hesitated for a slight moment, and then guided me towards Bruce's room. I could hear classical music springing from behind his doors as we neared. Alfred didn't try to ask me what was wrong or how I was. He was well trained in the art of silence. I didn't bother waiting to knock on the door. Into his dark room I stepped.

Stopping, tears welled in my eyes. "Bruce." My voice was rough with the lump in my throat.

Bruce didn't turn around when I entered. "Are you here to tell me that you can't love me?"

"No, Bruce. I love you."

This time he turned around. The smile that he offered dropped when he really looked at me. "What is it?"

"I'm not safe anymore. Not at my home."

Bruce didn't need to ask. "Alfred." He called out towards the hall. In came our most trusted ally and friend ready to do as we wished. "Lorraine will be living with us from now on. Have her things delivered immediately." He focused back on me. "The papers will run wild. This will make things difficult for us to…" He didn't finish.

"Ivan's not the same as he once was. The distortion of his personality was displayed in brilliant colors this evening when I asked him about his disappearance. He wouldn't tell me. Instead he said he couldn't save our son and that it was imperative for him to leave."

"Ivan is hiding something."

"I handed him divorce papers."

Bruce could have been made of stone. "When did you get those?"

"While I was away. I didn't want anyone to know what I was doing."

"And you couldn't tell me about it?"

"This was something I had to do by myself. You cannot control everything." Smiling, I leaned down to rest my forehead on his chest. "What was there left to loose, Bruce?"

"There are lots of things you can loose. This divorce will not be easy."

"I know that." Spreading out on his bed, I rolled onto my back and zoned out at the ceiling.

Bruce did the same thing. We must have been silent for quite some time because I soon fell asleep. When I woke up, I was underneath the covers and my coat was missing. Sitting up, I scanned the room. Bruce lay right next to me, watching me. I chuckled and lay back down close to him so our noses touched.

"Say it again."

"Say what again?"

"That you love me."

I closed my eyes and prepared my mouth to speak. "I love you."

Bruce grabbed chin and began to kiss me. The soft kisses didn't last long. He rolled over to lay on top of me with his head resting between my breasts. His thumb ran circles across my stomach. It felt like my whole being had anticipated this moment for so long. Now that it was happening, it fired up and prickled.

"Bruce."

"Yes?"

"Make love to me."

Bruce sat up, curiosity rushing over his brow with a quick speed. "Are you serious?"

"All serious."

I needn't say any more. He had me striped in no time. Bruce wasn't gentle—but he wasn't rough with me either. His impatience was obvious, but his need to explore me was overpowering the other. His lips led a happy trail down my stomach and to between my thighs. I gasped at the flicking of his tongue in areas that hadn't been loved in a while. I grabbed a chunk of hair in my fist to make him focus on me and shook my head. I didn't want foreplay. I wanted sex. All the way or nothing.

"Promise me I can come back to this later then." He gave a wicked grin.

I belted out a laugh seeing him between my thighs with such a smile. "I promise."

He crawled slowly, like a cat, back up to me. I could feel his erection tease between my thighs. But it wasn't just his penis that teased. His lips taunted me with small bites, tiny pecks, and gentle licks. I sighed.

Bruce snickered, glancing down at the closeness of our privates. "I want to treat you differently. You aren't just a screw. You're my lover. The lover that I love."

Unnoticed, a tear fell down my face. "Take your time then."

His mouth bent down to the right side of my neck where he began to give special attention to it. His thumb brushed against my nipple. Everything was illuminated.

His hands soon wandered down to my hips. Now, he was ready. I lifted myself up knowing how to do this. I wondered too late if it would hurt.

There was no pain when he slid in, but upon retreating I was tense. I gasped.

Bruce stopped moving, worry shimmering across his face. "I know you aren't a virgin."

"Seven months…going on eight months…"

"You know what they say about women who don't have regular sex…"

"They get tighter?"

"That is possible—but they get bitchier."

We both laughed for a minute. "Explains a lot. Maybe this will cure me."

"If I may proceed, we shall find out."

"Shove on, lover. Shove on."

Bruce took my words literally. It took only three more invasions and retreats to feel normal again. Our hips moved in perfect synch. Nothing could have been more perfect than the building sensation in my nerves. Bruce moaned several times in oblivious concentration. At the moment of his explosion, he was able to hold off until I had mine.

I had to press a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming in pleasure. Bruce made one final noise and collapsed right on top of me, privates still connected. Sex with Ivan had never been like that.

With exhaustion hitting Bruce once more, I lay awake in the crook of his figure. At the moment, nothing mattered. Not even the fact that I had sex with someone other than my husband. But no one would know. Because by the time that the rest of the world knew my scandal, my love for Bruce would overpower the rest.


End file.
